#bts o7

March 12 — Singapore

You hadn’t picked that top to piss off Jungkook. Not on purpose, anyway. But the second his eyes landed on you and he rolled them so hard you thought they might fall out of his skull, you wished you had chosen it intentionally. It felt unfair that sheer coincidence got the credit for irritating him so perfectly.

The tour had barely started and the atmosphere between you was unbearable. As much as you both wanted to keep things professional, it was nearly impossible when the breakup was barely a month old and you were being forced, twenty days after splitting, to spend months on a world tour together.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen it coming. The tour had been planned for almost a year. But the way things collapsed between you after everything… it was impossible to stay together. Not when even the PR team insisted you both keep pretending you were still in love for the public.

Maybe that was what made it so suffocating, acting like you were still a couple after everything that had happened. After you’d suffered a miscarriage six months ago, in the middle of a massive awards show in Los Angeles. After you’d been forced to keep performing through the night while your body quietly gave up the baby you’d carried for seventeen weeks. Maybe it was the way grief had sunk its claws into you, leaving you depressed, while Jungkook, also grieving, had pulled away until you could barely look at each other without fighting.

Or maybe it was the fact that since the tour started, twelve days ago, he’d been reckless, drinking too much, flirting with groupies, throwing accusations at you about Yoongi, the guitarist. As if your late-night songwriting sessions with Yoongi were anything more than desperate attempts to put your pain into lyrics. At least Yoongi listened without judgment, turned your sorrow into something tangible. Meanwhile, Jungkook was drunk somewhere in the corner, actually hitting on some fan.

Maybe it was because the two of you hated each other now. Or worse, because you still loved each other. Or something in between.

Either way, Jungkook was a mess at rehearsal. His focus was shot, his fingers stumbling over guitar strings like he’d forgotten how to play. You’d glared at him more times than you could count, and Yoongi had already muttered a fed-up “What the fuck, man?” into his mic, which Jungkook didn’t bother answering.

Five songs. Five mistakes.

Taehyung groaned behind the drum kit, sticks clattering in irritation, while Vicky, at the keyboard, rubbed her face with both hands.

“Are you stupid?” you snapped, slinging your bass aside and storming toward him. “This song’s from our first album. We’ve played it at every single show for six years, you know it by heart.”

You scoffed when he didn’t even look at you, just stared out at the empty stadium seats like he was bored, then fiddled with his guitar volume.

“Mind your part, I’ll mind mine,” he said, voice flat.

“I am minding my part, but you’re screwing everyone else over, asshole.” You rolled your eyes, glaring at the sharp profile of his face, at the silver flash of his eyebrow piercing. He finally glanced at you sideways, not bothering to reply. “Take this seriously, for fuck’s sake.”

“I am taking it seriously.” His tone stayed maddeningly calm. “Now get back to your spot so we can run it again.”

“Idiot,” you muttered, stomping back to your mic stand. Jungkook stretched out his hand and flipped you off behind your back, which you didn’t see.

How could the man you once admired so much turned into this jerk?

The rest of the band was visibly over it, eyes rolling, patience worn down to the bone. You were all close, but with everything going on, no one had the energy left to deal with you and Jungkook tearing into each other every rehearsal.

“Jungkook, focus,” Lina, the manager, clapped her hands from the pit below the stage, where thousands of fans would soon stand. “We need you here. Forget whatever’s in your head.”

He nodded, pulling the branded pick from between his lips, sliding it back into place between his fingers. Someone called for another take. Taehyung smacked his sticks together three times, counting off. And just like that, the song started again, this time, almost miraculously, it flowed clean.

For three songs, the band managed to hold it together, the music almost like the old days. But then came the acoustic duet, the one where you and Jungkook had to share his mic, his guitar strumming softly as the stage lights bathed you both, forcing you to play the part of lovers for the crowd. His face was a mask, his voice cold and mechanical, and you had to stare into those doe eyes that used to spark with life but had been dull and empty for weeks. You were getting used to it, the hollowness, but it still stung.

Singing songs from when you were head-over-heels, tangled in each other for years, unable to get enough, felt like torture every night. You deserved an Oscar for the performance, for pulling off the act of being in love with Jungkook on stage, night after night. Maybe it was easier when you let yourself remember how he used to be. How he made you feel like the most cherished woman in the world, like your entire universe orbited around him, like you were the muse behind every lyric you sang together.

But God, you hated when he looked at you like that.

Those sharp, predatory eyes, his tongue grazing his lips, zoning your mouth until you could barely breathe. In those moments, you struggled to recall why you’d ever broken up. Because sometimes, that angry glare of his burned with desperation, like he wanted to devour you whole. It made your legs tremble, forced you to look away, because if you held his gaze, you’d lose yourself completely.

That’s exactly what you did during that damn duet, tearing your eyes away from his. His stare was a molten mix of rage and raw desire, too intense to bear, threatening to unravel you right there on stage.

But, then your in-ear monitor cut out, the sudden silence throwing you off. You missed a beat, your voice faltering, and the rhythm of the song collapsed.

Jungkook shot you an accusing glare, his lips tight, and you ignored it, pressing a hand to your ear as you stepped back from the mic, looking toward James, the sound tech. The band ground to a halt, the silence in the stadium deafening.

“My in-ear’s fucked,” you said, trying to keep it professional.

Jungkook huffed into the mic, the sound echoing through the empty arena. You rolled your eyes, irritation flaring.

“You’ve been screwing up all day, and you can’t handle one mistake?” you snapped, gesturing at him. “That’s what soundcheck’s for, genius.”

He licked his lips, his tongue catching on his piercing, his eyes narrowing.

“Stop obsessing over me,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You laughed through your nose, a bitter, incredulous sound, planting your hands on your hips.

“Obsessed? With you?” You threw your head back, the laugh theatrical, deliberately overdone. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Guys…” Vicky’s voice came from the back, soft but pleading, trying to de-escalate. You both ignored her.

“First, you and Yoongi,” Jungkook said, pointing at the guitarist, who stood frozen, his expression confused. You didn’t dare look at him, just rolled your eyes harder, the absurdity of Jungkook’s words fueling your anger. “Now this fucking shirt.” He jabbed a finger toward your chest, where your cropped tee read Sex with you sucks.

“Oh my God,” you laughed, the sound sharp and loud, echoing off the empty seats. “Not everything is about you, main character.” You glanced down at it, then back at him, grinning viciously. “I grabbed this without thinking, Jungkook. It’s not about you or your dick.” That was true, sex with him was never bad, not even close, and you both knew it. “What a delicate little ego, Kookie.” You spat the nickname like venom, knowing it’d hit him where it hurt.

His jaw clenched, his grip on his guitar tightening as he threw his head back, mouth opening like he was about to fire back with something nasty. But before he could, Lina’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

“Enough, both of you!” she barked from the pit, her hands on her hips, her glare fierce enough to silence the entire stage. Vicky slammed her hands onto her keyboard, the metallic clang ringing out.

“Jesus Christ!” Vicky snapped. “You’re acting like fucking kids.”

Lina’s eyes didn’t waver, her tone cutting.

“Thirty-minute break. Now. I don’t care what you do, cool off, scream, cry, whatever. But get this shit out of your systems. The tour’s barely started, and I’m not babysitting your breakup for the next months. Clear your heads, come back focused, or this show will crash and burn before it even gets going.”

Her words landed like a punch, heavy. No one moved for a moment, the silence suffocating, but Jungkook finally turned away, ripping his guitar strap over his head, muttering something under his breath as he stormed toward the wings. You spun on your heel, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze as he carefully set his guitar down, his expression heavy with judgment. Shame burned in your chest. You knew this was ridiculous, childish, but you couldn’t stop. With your chin high, you took long strides toward the exit, desperate to escape the frustrated, disappointed looks from Taehyung, Vicky, and Yoongi. You didn’t need to see their faces to feel the weight of their exhaustion with you and Jungkook.

Now, you walk towards the backstage, surrounded by a massive team working tirelessly to make sure the show would go perfectly, every detail handled to give the fans the best possible experience. But there you were, caught in your own little world with Jungkook, fighting over something stupid again. Even though you both knew you were hurting, your arguments were spilling over, jeopardizing the work of dozens of people.

Your thoughts were cut short when Jungkook’s hand suddenly wrapped around your arm. You startled, flinching back, but before you could react, he pushed open a door behind him, one you hadn’t even realized was there and pulled you inside.

The room was dark and smelled faintly of dust. Stacks of boxes crowded the corners, instrument cases piled on top of one another, mic stands and speaker crates shoved haphazardly against the walls. It was some kind of storage space, cluttered and shadowy, the kind of place you’d never have noticed if he hadn’t dragged you in. But even in the dimness, you could see him, the sharp outline of his body, the white tank clinging to his torso like a spotlight in the dark.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want to fight,” you said quickly as he let go of your arm, closing the door behind you. The room dipped into deeper darkness.

“You don’t want to fight? Wearing that shirt just to humiliate me?” His voice was low, melodic in anger.

“Jungkook” you huffed, rolling your eyes, but he cut you off.

“You think the sex was bad, huh?” His body pressed against yours before you could stop him, your back hitting the wall with a muted thud.

Your eyes widened as you shoved your palms against his chest, keeping what little distance you could manage.

“This isn’t about the fucking shirt!” You shot back, pushing hard against him, trying to shove him off. He didn’t budge. Didn’t even flinch. “This is about you acting like an asshole who can’t even hit the right notes anymore.” The words came out sharp, like you were spitting them at him.

He laughed. The sound echoed in the dusty storage room, a low, humorless laugh that made your skin crawl.

“God, the small-dick energy, Jungkook. You used to be better than this.” You knew it would piss him off, and maybe you wanted it to. At this point, you didn’t care. Let him get angry. You were past the point of keeping the peace.

The room was claustrophobic. The noise of the backstage crew, shouts, clanging equipment, felt miles away, muffled by the heavy door, and he was so close. Too fucking close. And, what you hated most wasn’t that he was this close, it was that you couldn’t make yourself push him away. Not because you weren’t strong enough, because a part of you didn’t want to.

His laugh cut through, so sharp and mocking.

“I never saw you complain before,” he said, his voice low, as he pressed himself even closer, his hips locking against yours with deliberate force. The heat of him seared through your clothes, and you bit your lower lip hard, stifling the gasp that threatened to spill out.

“Get off me,” you said, the words sharp but brittle, your palms shoving against his chest.

For a split second, he eased back, just enough to let you think you’d won, but then he surged forward again, his hands clamping onto you, fingers digging in with a possessive grip that made your breath hitch.

“Do you really want that?” Jungkook’s voice was a low murmur, his mouth hovering so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, his cologne wrapping around you like a drug. His eyes, glinting in the half-light, locked onto yours.

“I’m fucking done with you,” you hissed, your voice trembling with the effort to hold your ground, your pupils straining against the darkness to catch the mocking spark in his gaze.

“Done with me?” he whispered, his lips grazed yours. His voice dropped lower. “You’re not done with me. You’ll never be.”

Before you could fire back, his lips caught your bottom lip, tugging softly that lasted just long enough to make your pulse stutter. Then, slowly, he stepped back, the sudden absence of his heat leaving you cold.

“Go,” he said, his voice flat, but his eyes burned, locked on yours, daring you to move.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not with Jungkook’s dark eyes pinning you against the wall in that cramped, dusty storage room. You swallowed hard, exhaling slowly, then filled your lungs to meet his gaze head-on, defiance burning in your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spat, voice sharp and commanding, leaning forward, but not to escape, but to crash your body into his, harder this time. Your hands slammed against his chest, but he caught your wrists in a reflex, yanking them up mid-air, pulling you closer until your bodies collided again. His hands released your wrists, sliding down to your waist, the movement hiking up your cropped tee, exposing the bare skin of your waist.

The second your bodies pressed together, your mouths followed, but this wasn’t a kiss, it was a battlefield. Lips crushed against each other, his tongue invading your mouth like he owned it, claiming every inch with hunger. You bit down on his lower lip, tugging at the piercing there, and he growled into your mouth, not pulling back. Your tongue pushed against his, lips moving with raw, angry need. Teeth clashed in the tilt of your heads, no rhythm, no finesse, just pure, messy intensity. It was impossible to tell if it was a fight or who the hell was winning.

His fingers trailed up your spine, rough and possessive, until they tangled in your hair, yanking your head back sharply. The motion broke the kiss with a wet noise, leaving your lips red and swollen, your eyes locked on his, chin tilted defiantly.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Jungkook rasped, his free hand slipping under your shirt. His fingers found your pierced nipple, pinching and twisting it with just enough pressure to make you gasp, the sensitivity sending a jolt straight to your core.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” you shot back, as you arched away from his grip, not to escape, but to challenge him.

He smirked, dark and dangerous, tugging your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts. His large hands squeezed them hard, rough enough to pull a long, unwilling moan from your throat. You hated how it slipped out, how your body betrayed you, but he reveled in it, groaning in approval as he spun you around, slamming your front against the cold metal door. Your cheek pressed against it, his hands bracketing your waist, his body caging you in, his chest flush against your back, his hips grinding into your ass. You felt his hardening cock through his tight jeans.

“I’ll shut my mouth when I’m done reminding you what a lying slut you are,” he hissed in your ear, a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. His lips grazed your earlobe, teeth nipping as his hands gripped your hips.

He smelled of sweat and that familiar cologne, the kind that used to make your head spin, and it was intoxicating now, pulling you under despite yourself. You pressed your lips together tight, swallowing any moan or sound of pleasure that might give him the satisfaction he didn’t deserve. Even as your body, half-surrendered to the way his frame pressed against yours, hot, angry, unyielding, you refused to let him know how much you wanted this. Wanted him.

Jungkook ground his hips harder against your ass, the friction deliberate and maddening, and you arched back into him, your body lifting off the wall despite your resolve. His low groan vibrated through you, a sound you hated yourself for craving. His hands moved to your zipper, yanking it down with quick, rough, peeling your jeans off your hips until they pooled at your thighs.

His right hand splayed across your ass, delivering a sharp slap that echoed in the storage room. You bit your lip hard, refusing to give him the moan he wanted, but then he slapped the other cheek, then the first again, the stinging heat building until a low whimper slipped out. His smug chuckle followed, dripping with satisfaction, and you hated how it made your pussy clench, your frustration spilling out in a sharp sigh, as his fingers traced the waistband of your panties, sliding along the thin strip of fabric between your cheeks.

“A thong?” he murmured, his voice velvety and taunting, tugging the fabric to the side. “Thought you only wore this shit for special occasions. Did you know you’d end up here, getting fucked against a door? Or was this for Yoongi?”

You hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought twice. You’d woken up late, grabbed the first thing after your shower, same as that damn sex with you sucks shirt, and rushed to soundcheck. But his talk about Yoongi lit a fire in your veins, sharp and angry, enough to make you shove your hips back and try to twist around, to face him. Jungkook’s grip tightened, keeping you pinned, his body a wall of heat and control.

“You’re pathetic,” you said, straining to catch his eyes over your shoulder, but the dark and awkward angle hid the mocking glint you knew was there.

He laughed, amused, his hand never pausing. It slid to the front of your panties, two fingers rubbing against the fabric, teasing.

“And you talk too much for someone about to get fucked senseless,” he shot back. Without warning, his fingers slipped under the fabric, gliding through your slick folds, already soaked. You sighed, hating how eagerly your body responded. “So fucking wet for me already,” he growled in your ear, his tongue dragging along your neck, leaving a hot, wet trail. You clenched your jaw, but your hips rocked into his touch.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you hissed. “I could get wet for anyone. You’re just here.”

He chuckled, his fingers circling your clit with slow, deliberate pressure.

“This pussy’s dripping because it knows who owns it.” He pushed two fingers inside you, rough and sudden, curling them to hit your g spot.

 “You—oh, fuck,” you gasped, as his fingers thrust harder, your eyes squeezing shut as pleasure and pain blurred together.

His other hand gripped the back of your neck, his nose trailing along your throat, inhaling deeply. You let out a louder whimper, his fingers plunging deeper, maybe too rough, because he paused to murmur:

“Does it hurt?” His voice was calm, almost mocking, with the pressure of his fingers against your pelvic bone, the obscene wet sounds of your pussy echoing in that small room. He groaned softly, clearly pleased. You shook your head, biting back another moan, refusing to give him more. “Want it to hurt?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with menace.

You shook your head once more, pride keeping you from admitting the truth, but it wasn’t convincing, not to him, not to yourself. You loved when it hurt, and so did he. How could you hide that from someone who knew your body better than you did? It was fucking impossible, and God, it pissed you off.

Jungkook’s laugh rumbled against your neck, mocking, dripping with that filthy edge that made your skin burn. Fuck. Your pussy clenched around his fingers at the sound, and you felt him smirk, pressing them deeper, grinding against your walls with a slow, deliberate twist that made you see stars. He eased up just enough to circle his fingers fully, groaning low in his throat.

“Fucking liar,” he murmured, his voice with lust. “You’re soaked, clenching around my fingers like you’re starving for it. You want this so bad, don’t you? My cock splitting you open right here.”

You whimpered, his words hitting you right between your legs, sending a fresh wave of heat to your core. God, you hated him, hated how much you needed him, how your body betrayed you with every pulse of arousal.

“Just… shut up and fuck me,” you breathed, your voice raw, the defiance melting under the weight of your need. You didn’t want to fight, not when his fingers were driving you insane, not when his hard cock was pressed against your ass. You were craving it, and there was no hiding it anymore.

He let out a hot puff of air against your neck, making you shiver, and yanked his fingers out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching. You whined, your body screaming at the loss, and he slapped your ass hard, making your pussy clench around fucking nothing.

“Needy slut,” he taunted, tugging your thong down completely, the soaked fabric falling to your ankles. “Already begging for my cock. Thought you were tougher than that, baby.”

“Says the guy who dragged me into this shitty room just to fuck me.”

Jungkook didn’t respond, just let out a wicked chuckle that made your skin prickle. You pressed both palms against the door, your body aching for more, craving the feel of him inside you again, but you refused to beg.

You pushed your hips back, seeking friction, to feel his dick against your ass, but found nothing. Then you heard it, the sharp sound of his zipper coming down, and a mix of desperation and relief flooded you, knowing his cock would soon be buried deep inside you.

His hand tangled in your hair again, yanking your head to the side, pressing your cheek harder against the door. With his free hand, he slid his index and middle fingers along your lips, sudden and unannounced. The musky scent hit you first, you knew these were the fingers that had been inside your pussy. He smeared the tips across your lips, and they parted instinctively, letting him push his fingers into your mouth.

The taste of yourself hit your tongue, almost sweet, you thought, as he shoved his fingers deeper, forcing them down your throat in a rough motion. You gagged slightly, the intrusion sudden and intense, but you didn’t pull back, sucking instead, your tongue swirling around his fingers.

Meanwhile, his other hand released your hair, and as you worked your mouth up and down his fingers, you felt his cock, hard, hot, pulsing, sliding between your ass cheeks, teasing the center. You couldn’t hold back the moan, needy, almost a whimper, slipping out like a plea.

“Fuck, listen to you,” Jungkook said. “Moaning like that while you suck your own taste off my fingers. You love this, don’t you?” His cock pressed harder, sliding through your slick folds, teasing your entrance, the raw heat of him making your core clench with anticipation.

You murmured a curse under your breath, hating how your body betrayed you, responding to him despite every ounce of your resistance. His dirty talk, growled low in your ear, sent shivers down your spine as the tip of his cock teased your entrance, brushing against you, so close to sliding in. It made your defiance feel pointless, almost laughable. But you fought it, pulling your mouth off him with a wet, audible pop, throwing your head back and swallowing hard, your voice rough with arousal.

“Fuck me hard,” you demanded, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Jungkook’s hand gripped your cheeks, forcing your lips to purse as his fingers pressed into your skin. He leaned in, his cock aligning perfectly with your pussy, his voice a low whisper in your ear.

“Open that fucking mouth.” You squeezed your eyes shut, too far gone to think straight, obeying without question. You heard the wet sound of him gathering saliva, then felt the warm, slick liquid hit your lower lip, pooling on your tongue. “Swallow,” he ordered. You did, his saliva sliding down your throat without a second thought, the act filthy in a way that made you clench. You opened your mouth again, letting out a shaky breath as he murmured, “Good girl.”

“Goddamn it, just fuck me already,” you snapped, exasperated by his teasing, his voice, his everything. You loved the way he talked, the way your body reacted, or at least you used to. Jungkook always knew exactly what to say to drive you crazy, to make you lose yourself completely, but right now, his voice pissed you off. You didn’t need his words, his smugness, his presence, just his cock, nothing else.

He didn’t make you ask again. With one hard thrust, he pushed into you, stretching you wide, filling you completely. You gasped, a loud, desperate moan escaping as your eyes squeezed shut, your walls clenching around him, adjusting to his size. Your body had missed this, missed him, no matter how much you hated admitting it. You rolled your hips deliberately, matching his rhythm as he moved, his hands sliding to your hips, gripping the bones to hold you steady. His low, throaty groans vibrated against your skin, syncing with each deep thrust.

It had been so long since you’d fucked, since the breakup, since him. Your vibrator could never compare, no matter how self-sufficient you prided yourself on being. Jungkook was Jungkook, and he knew exactly how to fuck you.

He rested his chin between your shoulder and neck, his lips brushing your ear, his moans soft but raw at the same time. His breath was hot, making you moan louder, your voice melodic and needy in a way you despised. You tried to control it, to bite back the sounds, but it was useless, your body was his, and it always had been.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” his voice thick with lust, his hips snapping harder, the cases next to your left, rattling with each thrust. “So fucking tight, like you were made for me. You love this, don’t you? Love how I fuck you raw, how I make you scream.”

“Jungkook,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the cold metal of the door, your body trembling as he hit your g spot again, with his dick now, over and over.

For a moment, you wanted to turn around, to claw at his muscled back, to mark his skin, to leave proof of this on him. The plasure, the hate. But you couldn’t face him, couldn’t bear to see his parted lips, his dark eyes, the way his teeth caught his lip piercing in the dim light. Even in the near-darkness of the storage room, you didn’t want to risk meeting his gaze, didn’t want to see the intensity in his eyes as he fucked you.

“Don—don’t stop,” you pleaded, your voice breaking.

“Stop?” He laughed, his tongue flicking against your earlobe, “Not a fucking chance.” His hands slid to your ass, gripping tight, his body grinding against yours, driving himself deeper with every thrust, hitting so deep it felt like he was carving himself into you.

His lips trailed down your neck, and you opened your eyes, seeing only the shadowed outlines of equipment cases and the flex of his shoulders behind you. Your breath came in heavy pants, his lip piercing grazing your skin as he sucked hard on your pulse point, the pressure painful. You hissed, almost jerking away, but he held you firm, his teeth grazing just enough to sting. He was marking you, claiming you, that fucking bastard, and you hated how it made your body respond, your ass pushing back against him.

You wanted to moan his name, to beg for more, knowing he’d give it to you, harder, deeper, exactly how you needed it. But you bit it back, refusing to give him the satisfaction, even as your walls clenched tight around him, feeling every inch, every vein, his cock pulsing inside you. Fuck. You hated Jungkook with every fiber of your being, but your body didn’t care, didn’t give a damn about your pride.

You swallowed a moan, then another, your lips pressed tight as he slowed his thrusts deliberately, going deeper, so deep it felt like he was trying to bury himself in you. His hips slammed against yours, the force drawing a small, involuntary whimper from your lips. You felt his smirk against your skin as he repeated the motion, quick and brutal, like he wanted you’d feel him for days.

Jungkook groaned low, long as he tugged your hair again, hard enough to tilt your head back. His grip loosened only to slide his hand down to your throat, his long fingers wrapping around your neck, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. God, you really hated how his touch set you on fire, hated how you craved it. You slapped a hand over your mouth, desperate to muffle the sounds he was pulling from you, but he tightened his grip on your throat, his fingertips pressing into your larynx.

“Trying to be a quiet slut now?” he taunted, his hips stilling, his cock buried deep inside you, a torturous pause. “You used to not give a fuck who heard you, baby. What’s wrong? Scared the crew’s gonna know you’re getting fucked by me in here, right after we fought? Scared they’ll know you can’t live without my cock?”

You whimpered, the sound pathetic and needy. Your hand fell from your mouth, your body trembling as he started moving again, slow, deliberate thrusts that made your knees buckle.

“Fuck you,” you managed, but it was weak, barely audible, your voice shaking with the effort to hold back.

He laughed, filthy, as he thrust harder.

“Oh, I’m fucking you. And you love it. Look at you, taking me so well.” His hand on your throat tightened just enough to make your head spin, the pressure mixing with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge.

His free hand slid between your thighs, the frantic collision of your hips, finding your clit, swollen, sensitive, and aching. His fingers circled it once more, rough, and you, moaning loud, not caring anymore. You weren’t going to last much longer, and neither was he. His groans had shifted from angry, dense, and guttural, almost high-pitched, needy and desperate. You knew that sound, knew the way his thrusts grew faster, his cock barely pulling out, too fast to hold back.

His movements were sloppy but precise, enough to make your eyes roll back, his hand still on your throat, the other rubbing your clit without any real pattern, just raw, chaotic pressure.

Before you could register it, Jungkook’s lips were on your neck again, this time on the other side, sucking hard, leaving another stinging mark until the sharp pull of his mouth made you grunt. Your hand shot to his thigh, and, with nowhere else to grip, you dug your nails into his skin, harder with each thrust, marking him as fiercely as he marked you.

Your moans mingled with his, unfiltered, his balls slapping against your ass as you felt him release inside you, hot spurts filling you, pushing you over the edge. You gasped, your hips grinding back against him, your walls pulsing desperately around Jungkook’s cock as you came, moaning, grunting, whimpering, completely out of control. The pleasure stretched on, long and overwhelming, your body shaking against the door.

Your mouth was dry, your lips parted and panting, his hands now resting gently on your body, a stark contrast to the brutal thrusts that had left your core burning. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and he didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you, his dick still twitching faintly.

Then you felt it, his forehead against your shoulder, his sweat-damp hair brushing your skin, his lips grazing your shoulder in a soft, fleeting touch that felt too intimate, too tender for what this was.

You tugged your shirt back down, shifting slightly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. Maybe he snapped out of it too, coming down from the high, because he finally pulled out, leaving you empty, aching, not just from the absence of his cock, but from the weight of everything that had just happened. You hated him, hated this, yet part of you ached for more, for his arms around you, his lips on yours, soft and loving like they used to be. You didn’t understand why you wanted it, why you craved that old Jungkook, the one who loved you, not this asshole he’d become.

You pulled your panties and jeans back up, still facing the door, refusing to turn and meet his eyes. The rustle of fabric behind you told you he was doing the same, zipping up his jeans in the heavy silence.

“Don’t ever wear that fucking shirt again,” he muttered, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You froze for a moment, your hand on the door handle, the words sinking in, but thn you turned your head slightly, not enough to face him, just enough to let him know you’d heard.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, your voice cool, defiant.

Busan, 2012

Jungkook’s family home always had the distinct scent of cinnamon. His mother loved baking in her free time, making small cinnamon treats for their Family and for you. That scent had become something of a signature that reminded you of warmth, of comfort, of home. You felt that arriving at his house was like that warm hug at the end of a tiring day. That feeling of comfort you never wanted to let go of. It was good, peaceful, warm, full of tenderness.

In fact, his house felt that way because of his family. The living room constantly echoed with laughter, his mom always made sure you were eating, staying healthy, and had time and the right mindset to study. And on those days of extraordinary exhaustion, there were the special cinnamon buns. They came with a generous layer of custard cream that she made. You loved them so much that you spent so much time there that you barely remembered what your own house smelled like. But then again, your home was different. Your parentes, both doctors, worked tirelessly, leaving the house cold, quiet, and lonely. Jungkook’s house was never like that. It was always warm and welcoming, full of life, full of love. And you loved being there. Those were your best days.

But that night was not one of them.

It was too cold, even for Busan’s winter. Just a week ago, it had been Jungkook’s mother’s birthday, but somehow, you were the one who received a gift from him too, a silver compass necklace. Now, you held it tightly against your chest, the metal cool against your skin. The air was sharp, biting at your exposed skin, but you knew Jungkook barely felt it. His dark hair hardly moved in the wind, and his eyes, those expressive, deep eyes, were wide open, focused, and filled with something. Even with your thick, padded gloves, your hands trembled slightly. Maybe because you already knew how this conversation would go.

You looked at him, trying to memorize him, the soft golden hue of his skin, paler than usual under the streetlights, the curve of his lips pressed together in hesitation, the slight redness at the tip of his nose from the chilly air. But most of all, you noticed the sadness in his eyes. You had seen it there for days now. And he had been hiding it, badly. He was never a good liar.

So, with a deep, shaky breath, you gathered the courage he couldn’t seem to find and whispered:

“How long have you known?”

His shoulders tensed slightly, but there was no confusion in his gaze. He knew exactly what you were asking. He let out a sigh, his breath forming a mist in the cold air.

“Since my mom’s birthday,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shut your eyes tightly for a second, inhaling sharply.

“Do you really have to go?” Your voice was soft, fragile, almost pleading. It was a stupid question. You already knew the answer.

Jungkook swallowed hard. This was his dream. The one he had talked about since you were kids. Since you were eleven, sitting on the school rooftop, listening to him ramble about music, about performing, about one day standing on stage. He had worked so hard for this moment, gone through so much. You had always known this day would come.

“You know I do.” His voice cracked slightly, and you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. His fingers twitched at his sides before clenching into fists. “This is my chance. I need to take it.”

Your chest tightened painfully. You had prepared for this, tried to ready yourself for this exact moment, but nothing could have prepared you for how much it actually hurt.

You nodded, pressing your gloved finger under your eye to stop a tear from falling, not that it made any difference.

“I know.” Your voice barely made it past your lips. “I just don’t know… how to do this without you.”

Jungkook let out a shaky breath before stepping forward, reaching for your hand. His bare fingers found yours despite the layers between you, and he squeezed tightly, pulling you closer.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.” His voice was stronger now, hopefull. “And when the time comes, you’ll move to Seoul for university, and we’ll finally be together again.” His lips curled into a small smile, the one that had always been your favorite.

You stared into his eyes, trying to hold onto those words, trying to believe in them.

“We’ll be together forever?” Your tears had long since escaped, but you didn’t care anymore.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“Forever.”

Busan, 2013

Jungkook had joked that your birthday present this year would be seeing him debut. You had laughed, feeling genuinely happy for him. But you missed him, the way he hugged you, the way he held your hand, the way he looked at you when no one else was around. Long-distance relationships were hard. You knew that. But you were willing to fight for this, for him. It had already been a year since he left for Seoul, and soon, you would follow. You just had to wait a little longer.

In the meantime, you found ways to fill the void. You buried yourself in schoolwork, stayed up late reading, and became the top student in your class. Jungkook was just as busy, training for hours on end, pushing himself beyond his limits. But despite everything, you still talked all the time.

Always, past midnight, your phone rang.

Jungkook’s voice was quiet, hushed as he spoke from the dormitory bathroom. He didn’t want to wake his bandmates, his new family, as he often called them.

“I fell asleep in class again today,” you mumbled sleepily, yawning into the phone.

 “You need to sleep more, dummy.” Jungkook chuckled softly.  “You work too hard.”

“Says the guy who spends twelve hours a day dancing,” you teased.

He sighed on the other end of the line, and you immediately caught the shift in his tone.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

There was a pause, a long silence that made your stomach twist. Then, finally, he murmured.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

 “Jungkook…” Your heart clenched.

“Everyone here is so good,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “And they keep telling me I need to break out of my shell, to stop being so shy. I...“ He hesitated. “What if I’m not good enough?”

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“You are good enough,” you said firmly, without hesitation. “You were born for this, Jungkook. And you’re going to make it. I promise.”

You had never, not for a single moment, doubted that Jungkook would achieve his dream. You saw potential in him and knew that if the company hadn’t seen it too, they would never have given him that chance. And one year was far too little time for a teenager to adjust to that exhausting routine, and you knew that. You also knew that Jungkook had developed the habit of doubting himself due to the pressure from all the training before debuting, so you always reassured him as many times as necessary. Because you, sometimes even more than he did, believed in it and wanted him to succeed. And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was smiling.

Busan, 2014

Since Jungkook had debuted, you had only seen him once, on Christmas. And it was starting to frustrate you. You still visited his house often because his mother missed him terribly, and having you around was a small comfort for her, a tiny way to fill the void his absence left. You didn’t mind. In fact, you liked it. You had always found more support and warmth in Jungkook’s parents than in your own, who were cold, distant, and hardly ever home. The distance had become normal, but being with his parents felt like being close to him too, even when things between you and Jungkook had started to feel… different.

It had been two years since he had left Busan to become a trainee. You knew he was working tirelessly to give BTS a fighting chance in the brutal, unforgiving entertainment industry. Meanwhile, you hadn’t done as well on your college entrance exams as you had hoped. It weighed on you heavily.

Jungkook’s calls had become rare, and sometimes, the only messages you exchanged were a simple good morning and good night. You knew he was giving his all, pushing himself, but all you wanted was your boyfriend back.

Now, he was here. His lips pressed against yours in a long, lingering kiss. It was nearly winter again, and you were on the balcony of his bedroom. His parents had already gone to sleep, so you had quietly closed the door and stolen a bottle of wine from his mother’s personal stash. Now, the bottle was empty, forgotten beside you, and Jungkook’s head rested on your shoulder as he trailed lazy, wine-flavored kisses down your neck.

“I need to tell you something.” You finally gathered the courage to speak, unsure if it was the wine or the way his kisses sent shivers down your spine that made you brave enough.

“Hmm?” He hummed, his lips still grazing your skin, his tongue teasingly flicking against it.

“I’m serious.”

He stopped abruptly. His brows furrowed as he turned to look at you.

“What happened?”

You took a deep breath, deciding to rip the bandage off quickly.

“I didn’t get into Seoul National University.” His face softened instantly. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to comfort you, but you weren’t finished yet. “Or Korea University.” You shut your eyes and took a deep, long breath. “But I did get into POSTECH.”

Jungkook blinked, processing your words. Then, suddenly, his face lit up, and before you could react, he was grinning, wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground, and spinning you in a full circle. He kissed you, deep and lingering, before pulling away to beam at you.

“Congratulations, princess.”

Your stomach twisted at his reaction. He hadn’t realized what this meant. Not yet. And, once again, it was up to you to spell it out for him.

“Jungkook… you know what this means, right?” You stared into his dark eyes. His grin didn’t fade.

“That you’re a freaking genius.”

You swallowed hard.

“That I’m moving to Pohang.”

His smile vanished instantly.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“And Seoul?” His voice was quieter now, as if he was still trying to understand.

You exhaled.

“I didn’t get into any universities there. Pohang is an amazing school, and it’s still somewhat close to Busan.” You lowered your head, feeling tears sting your eyes. “I’m sorry, babe. I failed at writing the future we planned.” Your voice broke, and the weight of your disappointment crushed you. Your chest tightened painfully, and shame crept up your spine. You didn’t dare look at him.

Jungkook had worked so hard, had come so far. And you had spent years planning a future with him, and now, because of your own incompetence, that plan had crumbled. A sob tore from your throat before you could hold it back, and suddenly, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his warmth. His lips pressed against the top of your head in a gentle kiss.

“You didn’t fail.” His voice was soft, steady, but firm. He held you tightly, as if willing you to believe him. “We’ll figure it out, even with you in Pohang.”

Finally, you lifted your head to look at him.

“Are you sure?” Your voice trembled, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

Jungkook’s own eyes glistened as he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“I’m sure.”

Pohang, 2015

You were at a college party, drunk. Completely drunk. Dancing with your best friend from university, Leah, you felt radiant. She was brilliant, magnetic, and you were genuinely happy. The alcohol played a part in how outgoing and cheerful you felt, but you didn’t mind.

Summer break was approaching fast, and you were excited to go home. College had been exhausting, draining every ounce of energy from you. Despite everything, all you wanted was a few days to sleep, free of responsibilities, no classes, no club activities you had foolishly thought you could handle all at once.

The university frat house had set up a huge screen in the living room. Bright, colorful lights illuminated the space, and the furniture had been pushed to the corners, leaving a wide-open area for dancing. In one hand, you held a bottle of soju, and in the other, Leah’s fingers were intertwined with yours. A group of dorm friends surrounded you, the air buzzing with excitement.

Then, a familiar melody reached your ears.

Your body moved on instinct, turning toward the screen, where the face of Kim Namjoon, one of Jungkook’s bandmates, appeared. Your entire body stiffened, your smile fadded and you abruptly let go of Leah’s hand.

Of course, you had seen BTS content before, posters, music playing in stores, random clips online. But seeing it here, projected onto a screen at a fraternity party, was diferent. The next face to appear was Jungkook.

Your heart lurched in your chest as his voice filled the room. You held your breath.

Leah chuckled, watching your reaction.

“You like BTS, right?” she asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “I love this song.” She hummed along. “Dope.”

You didn’t answer and distanced yourself a bit from her, who didn’t care and stared to dance to the song. You stared at the music video like you were seeing it for the first time, even though you had watched it before. It was a new song. You used to play some music in your headphones while studying. Rarely did you ever let it play loudly. You knew BTS was growing in fame, but at the same time, somewhere deep in your chest, they felt like your little secret, so you didn’t talk much about them. With anyone. You couldn’t. Because of a contract. Not even when you snuck out to one of their concerts in the middle of the night and felt a little pathetic. But you knew some things and situations were bigger than you, so you sort of knew that all that was left was to accept that certain things were what they were, and that was the end of it. But you avoided the topic because you didn’t know how far you could carry the lie or the omission that you were dating one of the members of BTS.

You loved Jungkook, but you hated every second of that secret. Even though Jungkook tried to make it seem like a oath rather than a secret. Which usually worked every time you weren’t angry about the fact. Those moments, however, were becoming rare now, as your frustration bubbled in your chest, about to explode. Like in that moment. You were grinding your teeth without even realizing it.

“That one in the police uniform is hot.” Leah remarked, nodding toward the screen.

You turned to look at her, studying her face for a moment. You wanted to shout that he was your boyfriend, and you felt a pang of jealousy knowing that so many people were eyeing him, and he had to seem available to them. Even though it was all just an illusion, it was something he had to do. You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to throw caution to the wind and spill the entire truth to your best friend.

An idol’s personal life wasn’t something the company liked to make public, especially not a relationship with an ordinary person, a mere college student. You and Jungkook had to hide. He and the other members had to be seen as desirable. That was the image the industry demanded. Personal relationships only brought scandals, and you knew that he had signed a contract ensuring he wouldn’t make anything public.

BigHit knew about you, though. You had even visited the company twice before, and the members had always been incredibly kind to you. But seeing Jungkook there, on the screen, singing, dancing, while surrounded by college friends who had no clue about your relationship was surreal.

This was the person you loved. The person you had promised a future with. But on that screen, he looked like just another untouchable celebrity.

Phone calls had become rare. Plans to meet always got postponed because of the band’s schedule. You barely even remembered what it felt like to be alone with him.

The sudden weight of reality hit you. You needed to get out of there. Abandoning your soju bottle on a random table, you rushed to the bathroom, not caring about Leah’s confusion when she called your name and tried to follow you. You locked the door behind you. Leaning over the sink, you stared at your reflection, your eyes red, cheeks flushed, and tears threatening to spill over. Your chest ached. And deep down, you knew what your mind was screaming at you: this wasn’t going to last much longer.

You sobbed into your hands, the sound of Dope muffled by the bathroom walls. It felt as if there were two Jungkooks: BTS’s Jungkook and your Jungkook and they existed in completely different universes. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t belong in his universe anymore.

You lied to your college friends every day, pretending you didn’t have a boyfriend. And, most of the time, it really didn’t feel like you did. His absence was overwhelming. You had even heard rumors once, people speculating that you were into girls because, despite being theoretically single, you rejected every guy who approached you. You handled it the best you could, but it was becoming unbearable. With trembling fingers and blurry vision, you pulled out your phone. You dialed Jungkook’s number. Once. Twice. No answer.

So you typed: jungkook, are we fooling ourselves? i feel like im holding onto something that’s slipping through my fingers. and i don’t know if you even have the time to catch it anymore.

He never responded. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how.

Busan, 2016

The last time you saw Jungkook was at the end of summer break. He was at the train station during one of his rare visits home. BTS was getting more well-known, but at that hour, the station was relatively quiet. A few staff members from his company were with him, he was rarely alone now, as they had grown far bigger than anyone had imagined.

As soon as he appeared, you made sure he saw you before turning and walking toward the parking lot. You had arranged to pick him up there. You knew he would dismiss his staff, who would stay nearby to film some content for, who knows what. They recorded everything about the boys' lives. Not at that exact moment, but later, at some point. You rolled your eyes, exhausted by it all.

The car doors were already unlocked. His staff placed his luggage in the trunk and quickly said their goodbyes before Jungkook slid into the passenger seat. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. His hair was a shade of honey. Beautiful. Familiar. He smelled amazing. But he didn’t kiss you when he got in. And you didn’t acknowledge it. You were hurt and you wanted to cry.

“You look different,” you said as you started the car.

“So do you.”

The drive to his house wasn’t filled with arguments, but it was heavy, filled with silent tears, raw pain, and regret. Regret, but also understanding. You had both done your best, you both knew this was coming. And you both knew this was the end.

There was no way to fix it. No way for your lives, your universes, to align right now. You cried together, and when you finally arrived at his house, a farewell kiss was exchanged. Salty from tears. Your tongues barely brushed, just a soft, lingering touch, intense, but at the same time, neither of you wanted to pull away. You still loved each other. That was obvious. But there was nothing left to do to save this love.

“I’m proud of you, Jungkookie.” That was the last thing you said before he turned his back and walked toward his house.

He never looked back.

Busan, 2025

The night shift had been brutal. There was an unspoken rule in the medical field: never, under any circumstances, say that a shift is "quiet." It was a curse, an invitation for chao. And that’s exactly what had happened last night. At least now, you had something to look forward to for next month: your first real break since starting this job. One and a half month of vacation. Time to breathe, rest, maybe even figure out what you wanted outside of work.

You were finally about to finish your orthopedic residency and, for the first time in a while, you'd be free for a bit. In medicine, real breaks were rare, but luckily, the hospital you worked at had recently started experimenting with a new mental health initiative for doctors, nurses, and other healthcare workers. After an intense year marked by record-high burnout rates and an average of 80-hour workweeks, the issue had sparked widespread criticism in the media and among healthcare professionals. The pressure led to protests demanding change, ultimately pushing for a new protocol focused on ensuring better rest, increased job satisfaction, and, most importantly, fewer medical errors and higher quality care for both patients and staff.

But first, you were stuck in traffic. You tapped your fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, stealing a glance at the clock. 8h35 a.m. The roads should’ve been clearing up by now, but instead, the city was at a standstill. Min Hyejin, your closest friend since university and now a fellow nurse, sat beside you, scrolling through her phone. In the backseat, Dr. Choi Seojun, a new orthopedic specialist at the hospital, stared out the window, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

"What the hell is going on?" Seojun muttered as he squinted at the street ahead. A dense crowd had gathered along the sidewalks, holding signs, flowers, and balloons.

“No idea,” you sighed as you drummed your fingers harder. “Traffic wasn’t supposed to be this bad.”

Hyejin frowned, then let out a small breath as she kept reading her phone.

“Looks like there’s some celebrity in town,” she said absentmindedly.

“A celebrity?” Seojun let out a dry chuckle. “Who?”

“Not sure.” She kept scrolling.

The cars inched forward, only for the one ahead of you to slam its brakes. You barely had time to react before slamming your palm against the horn.

“Idiot!” you yelled, leaning slightly out of the window, the warm June air tousling your hair. You forced yourself to take a breath, staring at the summer skyline, trying not to let exhaustion and impatience get the best of you. Twelve-hour shifts were already draining enough. Getting stuck in a never-ending traffic jam right after? Unbearable.

Hyejin suddenly sat up straighter, eyes widening.

“Oh,” she murmured, then cleared her throat. “Apparently, the BTS members just got discharged from the military. Some of them are back in Busan, and fans are out here welcoming them.”

Your stomach dropped. The air in your lungs seemed to vanish in an instant, your fingers tightening around the steering wheel. No. It couldn’t be.

Of course, after almost a decade, you hadn’t heard from Jungkook personally. You only knew him the way the rest of the world did, through headlines, music videos, and the occasional airport sighting captured by paparazzi. He had become untouchable, larger than life. You had spent years learning how to ignore the constant reminders of him, how to keep your head down when his face appeared on billboards, how to pretend you didn’t hear his voice in passing when a song played somewhere. You had known about his enlistment, of course. It was impossible not to. But this was too much.

He was here. Somewhere in this city. And suddenly, the space around you felt suffocating.

Dr. Choi stretched his neck, trying to get a better view.

“Wait are they actually here? Like, up ahead?”

 “No, it’s just the fans.” Hyejin laughed, shaking her head.

Just the fans. You exhaled slowly, forcing your hands to relax. He wasn’t here, not right now, at least. But for the first time in years, Jungkook was close enough to feel real again. And that thought terrified you more than anything else.

 “I remember a few years ago they had a concert here, and my niece almost killed me to go with her,” Seojun says, laughing. “She went with her friends.”

“I remember,” Hyejin says, smiling as she looks at Seojun. “They’re good,” she adds, and a silence settles in the car. You weren’t in Busan when the concert happened, but you overheard your mom and dad talking about it being a huge event. “Jimin’s from here, his dad has a café that’s really famous,” she shrugs. “Jungkook’s from here too, right?”

Hearing his name makes you shudder, but without thinking too much, you say quietly, “Yes.”

“Hey, you used to like BTS back in college, didn’t you? I remember you playing their songs while we studied,” Hyejin turns to you, and you swallow hard.

Hyejin was your roommate in your first year of college, then she switched dorms, and you became friends with Leah, another girl you didn’t have contact with anymore. The two of them were your closest friends, and still, neither of them ever knew about you and Jungkook.

You avoid looking at her, but you don’t need to respond, and Seojun’s laughter echoes in the car.

“So, you...” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“No, it’s not like that,” you sigh, now more impatient than just a moment ago.

“Oh, so you weren’t a fan?” Dr. Choi laughed, teasing you a bit. You glanced at him through the rearview mirror but decided to just shake your head. He didn’t notice, too focused on looking out the window.

“There are so many people here just to honor them, and they’re not even here,” he said, staring at the crowd.

“BTS is a global phenomenon, and their fans are everywhere,” Hyejin said, smiling. The words caught you off guard. You had understood years ago that your Jungkook probably didn’t even exist anymore. How could he? With all that fame and money, the Jungkook you once knew was likely just a part of your memory now.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to be that famous, to have people throwing themselves at your feet, loving you from a distance... it must be exhausting,” Seojun said, thoughtfully.

“Maybe,” you murmured, driving the car a little further, “But it’s the price of success. And I think they knew exactly what they were getting into.” You said it bitterly.

“You’re right,” Hyejin spoke this time, looking at you and nodding. “But still, it must be hard. Not having a life like we do, no privacy, no normal moments.”

You didn’t say anything. Jungkook’s life was in another universe, so far away from yours, and no matter how much you wanted to hold onto him, you couldn’t. You never could.

The traffic was slowly clearing up, the cars moving forward little by little. As soon as you left the crowded area full of fans, the road flowed normally again, making you let out a sigh of relief. You were exhausted from that atmosphere, from the mere reminder of your ex, despite how easily you had learned to ignore his orbit whenever it crossed your path.

But for the first time in years, you and Jungkook were in the same city at the same time, and that was terrifying. Still, if you were being honest, there was zero chance of running into him on the street, because you weren’t naive, and he was ridiculously famous. What were the odds that you would just happen to see him at a restaurant you frequented?

Seojun and Hyejin’s conversation blurred into background noise during the entire drive to your friend’s house, where she was the first to be dropped off after over fifty minutes of traffic. Without hesitation, Seojun moved to the passenger seat. He talked about work, and you nodded absentmindedly, too drained to focus on his words, or anything else.

“You know,” he started, looking at you. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, raising your eyebrows to signal for him to continue. “I’d really like to know if you’d want to go on another date with me.”

Your fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

The two of you had gone on a date the previous weekend. Seojun was the head orthopedic doctor, and you were currently doing your residency in the field after giving up your last specialization in emergency medicine. The pressure had been too overwhelming, triggering panic attacks whenever you thought about working in such high-stress conditions. Initially, you thought you would adjust, but you never did, so you switched to your second choice, or perhaps what you had truly wanted all along: orthopedics.

The date had been nice, nothing extraordinary. No kiss, no deeper intentions on his part, which had honestly left you a little disappointed. Dr. Choi was attractive, tall, muscular, intelligent, and charismatic. You had wanted a kiss, but it never happened. After a week of discreet flirting at work, his question wasn’t entirely surprising.

“Of course,” you answered with a small smile, glancing at him briefly before focusing on the road again.

“Great,” he grinned, dimples deepening on his cheeks. “There’s a restaurant near my place I want to take you to. I just found out about it recently.”

You smiled and nodded. He told you the name of the place, you had been there before, given that you lived in the same neighborhood, but you pretended not to know. You wanted to make him feel good.

When you stopped in front of his building, Seojun thanked you for the ride and stepped out of the car. You watched him walk away, but then, without warning, without any conscious effort, your mind wandered to the fact that Jungkook was in town. You rolled your eyes at your own thoughts. Why does this even matter? It didn’t. Not one bit.

Besides, it had been nine years since you last saw each other. With the way the media worked, there was even a possibility that Jungkook was married by now. You doubted it, though. If his schedule had been chaotic back when BTS was just rising to fame, it was probably almost ten times worse now. Shaking your head, as if that would rid you of these thoughts, you focused on getting home. You desperately needed rest.

CH: 2 – Here

favsjjk97 - 2025

After getting out of Jimin's room, Deo walked in a fast pace back to her dorm. Hyori had been texting her non-stop and she was sure she wasn't sleeping yet. It wasn't like her at all. She would want to know every last bit of detail of what had happened in that room and Deo would innocently tell her only to regret it the second right after when she saw Hyori's smirk. The smaller girl already knew what was going through her roommate's mind and she wasn't in the mood for sharing. Not that Hyori minded. She had a whole elaborated plan on her mind already, focused on making her friend see the supposed love she had for the art boy. It was obvious to Hyori so it should be like that to everyone else. 

The next morning, when Deo woke up Hyori was already long gone. She was used to that by now. Every morning the girl would wake up a couple of hours earlier to do some jogging. That and to watch the sunrise as she took some sips from her first coffee of the day. Nearby, a cafeteria started beeping signaling coffee was ready to be served and Jin finished taking the last slices of bacon off the pan onto his plate when a sleepy Carolina swooped it right from his hand with a lazy smile spread across her face.

"Hey!!!" Jin screamed at her. "That's my breakfast!" He said making Carolina let out a chuckle. 

"Why do you need two plates then?" She asked already sitting down, fork in hand ready to dig in. 

"Sure thing captain hook." Jin laughed as he noticed she had her right eye closed, sleepiness and the brightness that came from the window being too much to handle at the moment. 

"Arrrgggh!" She pulled up her sleeve long enough to cover up one of her hands and she let out the pirate scream. 

The two were a handful to deal with. Especially in the morning. And their friends were well aware of it. Considering everything, it would be very hard for any of the two to find such a good housemate as they were to each other. Jin was a quirky guy to say the least and Carolina was even worse so joining the two together you would get the most random interactions ever. Including Jin's curiousness for bras and their engineering, to Carolina's habit of enjoying to walk around naked and meditating at 3 am with her head hanging from the couch and her legs pointed up to the ceiling. Nonetheless, they were great friends. 

Another person that was always fun to be around was Hoseok. He was the life of the party. No, saying that is insulting his whole persona. He was the life of everything. Everywhere he went, people knew and appreciated him and he was always happy. When he wasn’t, chaos was about to happen. But today, he woke up feeling more excited than usual. He was going to skip his first period to have breakfast with his sister. 

They had this tradition for a long time. As a kid, Hoseok considered his sister his best friend, she was a bit older than he was yes, but he knew there was no one else in the world that would get him like she does. When she flew to America to study fashion design he was the one who took it the hardest. So after the first year of college she flew back to Korea and convinced the entire family to move back with her when she returned for her second year. Ever since then, on the second Wednesday of the month, Hoseok and his sister would always have breakfast on a cafe nearby. The distance was exactly the same from the house to it and from the University.

"Jaz~~" Hoseok called out as soon as he laid eyes on his sister that was sitting in one of the corner booths. He was always divided between the sunny window and the comfort of the wall sofa. "No sun today huh?" He asked, after giving her a kiss on the forehead as a hello. 

"Honestly, since we moved here I can't even remember how pale I used to be." She joked. She loved heat and the beaches. 

As soon as the waitress spotted Hoseok sitting at the booth, she started walking in their direction, although she could already guess what they would order. "Good morning Peg, how are you?" Hobi greeted her with a huge smile. 

"Hey Hun." She smiled to the boy. "Is it the usual or you're up for a change?" 

"The same, as always." Jazmine, that used to be Jiwoo decided to change her name as she opened her first store 'Jazzy'. She conquered many achievements but now she had a new challenge and she wanted her brother to help. 

"These here," she said, pulling up a big pile of papers off of her bag and onto the table "I need you to spread them around campus." She bat her eyelashes unnecessarily, Hoseok was already picking up one of the papers and examining it. 'Model needed for fashion show' 

"Can I model?" He asked excited. He was proud of his sister's clothesline. 

"Of course you can. I already did one just for you, but I need more. Boys and girls and since you're so..." she searched for the right word "popular around campus, I'm sure you'll find the right people." 

"I'll do my best!" He placed his arm up to his head, saluting as if she was his captain. The food came right after and they started digging into their plates, not having space for conversation. The only sounds pronounced were "hums" and "woow" from how good the food tasted. 

Carolina was tired of hearing her tummy growl despite the hotel breakfast like she had just a couple hours ago so it was time to take a little pause from her soundtrack class. The teacher wasn't teaching anything new to her so an hour or so away wouldn't hurt much. She could already take this path with her eyes closed. Turning left, go down two flights and then left again and she was at the bar. She ordered her usual chocolate cupcake and climbed up the stairs again to her usual broom closet. 

"What? Do you need a broom?" The guy asked as soon as she opened the door, arching his brow as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. 

"Yes, it's witching hours already" Carolina said with a smirk on her face. 

"That's not the usual look for a witch. I guess times were good to your kind." 

"Should I presume you're the artist behind all those drawings?" Carolina asked pointing to her drawings and its correspondence. 

"Yeah I am. I was just finishing up answering you." He says with a smirk more guessing than saying but by the intrigued look on Carolina's face he was more than certain that he was right. 

"I think this is the part where I ask your name then." She said in a cool tone but too intrigued on the inside. 

"I'm Ben. Ben Hayes. And you?" He put out his hand for her to shake. 

"Carolina," She crossed her arms, eyeing him up. "Jones" 

"And what are you doing here Carolina Jones? Shouldn't you be in class?" He said in a mocking tone.

"Shouldn't you?" She raised her eyebrow. 

The truth was that Ben indeed had somewhere to be. He had been hired for a couple of weeks now to be the substitute for Miss Finning, the professor of Arts and History. He already knew he was not going to be hired. He had been jumping schools ever since he finished his degree but he never got to maintain his position. He started off in Liverpool, his hometown, then moved to London, travelled to the USA and taught in Michigan, Chicago, Houston and now LA. So he was more than certain he wasn't to stay here either. 

"I don't think that's any of your business is it?" 

"Then I could say the same, Ben Hayes." She winked at him but she was still standing still. 

"But are you going to stand there or sit down? I won't bite unless you ask me to." He winked back with his blue-ish/grey-ish eyes, tapping on one of the boxes next to him. 

"You shouldn't go around saying such things you know..." She sat down. "Someone might ask you to... someday" she says more in a whisper. 

"And I'll be more than ready to attend to their needs, trust me." His british accent rang through her ears, making her almost have goosebumps. "But do you want to stay here or do you wanna go somewhere else? I have a break between classes and I could use your company." 

"I don't know... How am I gonna be sure that your 'more than ready' is indeed reliable? Cause you know, I can't just skip being here in peace for something that isn't true..." Carolina teased. 

"Do you need a test drive then?"

"I don't ever say no to free testing." Ben's arm that was already wrapped around her, pulled her closer and Carolina took no time to react and grab him by the collarbone of his shirt, kissing him hard. The kiss was sloppy and full of tension and their hands were touching everywhere they could to ease their hunger. 

"Shall we?" He asked with a smirk on his face, parting from the kiss and nodding towards the door. 

Noon came pretty soon and the sun was hitting hard, summer was starting to creep in through spring and everyone was starting to gather they lunches, including Hyori. She only had time to have a sandwich with Hoseok before grabbing her book and finding a good spot in the lounge area. She sat down in a table of four, the only one that was available and took her books out. She was too nervous for her own liking, she tried to take down some notes from the class she just had but it was in vain, her mind was rushing through a million of things, making thousands of scenarios in her head. 

"Hey Hyori, have you been here long?" Jeonghan sits down besides Hyori, with a smile on his face, scaring her a little. She was too busy in her thoughts to even notice him coming. 

"Hi Jeonghan! No, I just got here!" She smiles to him, trying not to show how nervous she really is. 

"Should we start studying our biology? I-I mean just biology! Not ours, everyone's." Jeonghan says and then laughs embarrassed. She laughs alongside him, noticing his cute smile. He was also very nervous. 

"Sure, let's do it! Do you usually study just by reading or do you like to talk about it?" 

"Talking. It gets stuck in my mind longer!"

"Same for me" Hyori giggles. "Before we start though I have a question…" This had been bugging her ever since the first text they exchanged. 

"What is it?" He tilts his head to the side, curious, as he stares at her. 

"You're pretty smart yourself… so why would you want to study with me?" She pauses for a moment and then continues, trying to explain herself better. "Don't take me wrong! I'm glad we're studying together!!" She adds, with a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"I think it's pretty obvious... You are top of the class and I mean... you're very pretty so I just needed an excuse to talk to you." Just like her, he was super embarrassed but he wanted her to know what he really felt, even thought that meant he had to be a little awkward and upfront.

"You're shyer than I thought you would be" She laughs, trying to ease up the mood. "And thank you, if it means something I think very high of yourself too." A proud smile showed up in his face and his whole body warmed up.

"So if we're in a time of being honest... I think I should tell you I came here to do more than studying." He turns his body in his seat so that he is completely facing her. He was holding up his breath and he didn't even realized but he was a man on a mission now. He continued to lean in into her and he could already feel her breath when...

"Oh! There you are guys!" Asa, a cute pale boy with the brightest blue eyes is rushing up to then, holding his backpack just by one strap on his left shoulder. "I thought you did study sessions in the library!" He smiles, totally clueless of the situation that was going on. 

"Oh- Hi! Hm- Who…?" Hyori asked, breathless, while nervously looking between both boys.

"This is Asa. He's my roommate." Jeonghan says, with a big frown on his face. 

"Hi! I heard a lot from you Hyori!" Asa says as he sits down across the table from them and can't help but wink at the girl. 

"So are we studying or not?" Jeonghan asked, clearly upset that Hyori's attention was now divided. 

"Yes! Of course!" She opened her manual on the marked page. "Are you… from our class? I never saw you there." She eyed Asa.

"Oh no!" He said chuckling. "I heard from Jeong here you were giving lessons and I always wanted to know more about biology!" He said as honest as he could be, making Hyori open up a big smile. 

"Well you're always free to contact me, I love biology and I love teaching so…"

"I'll make sure to hold you to that! You will want to get rid of me in no time." He joked, making her laugh but before she could reassure him, Jeonghan spoke again. 

"Can we study? Some of us have exams to prepare for!" 

"I highly doubt it! And yes sorry-" She couldn't help but tease Asa one last time before turning to Jeonghan and squeezing his arm. "Ok, everyone on page 70?"

"Oh I don't have a book, can we share one?" Asa said sheepishly.

"Have mine, I can see from yours?" Jeonghan said to Hyori almost immediately throwing him his book. 

"Yes sure!" Hyori let a shy smile as she felt Jeonghan pull his chair closer to hers.

As it was usual on Wednesdays, Jimin and Taehyung would always eat together. This Wednesday it ended up being McDonald’s. They decided to do this every week ever since they moved into their dorms and realized neither one of them really knew how to cook. They would always order individual menus, but ended up having bites out of each other’s food; because Jimin’s wrap looked too good and fresh and because Tae’s bacon was just asking Jimin to take a huge bite.  

Right now, it was almost 4 in the afternoon and Jimin was going to have football practice. They were walking together in silence, they knew each other for too long to have to always keep a conversation; in some, they enjoyed the silence time they’d have from time to time. But Jimin kept sighing and Taehyung knew something was wrong, he was just making his friend hurt a little before giving him love.  

“I have a problem and I need to talk to you about it. Ask me what’s going on.” Jimin mostly cried, putting his full weight on Tae’s shoulder like he had just fainted.  

“Ahhh” Taehyung said in an annoyed tone, followed by a chuckled, before pushing his friend back to his place. “Just start talking! Why are you always like this?!”  

“Are you going to be a good friend or just complain?” He faked a pout before laughing right after, seeing Tae’s side look. “I’m nervous about the game this week. We have to win or we’ll drop down to 3rd place and that’s not nothing something we can afford right now... plus I have an exam of history of contemporary dance on Monday and I don’t think I’ll have time to study.”  

“Look... I don’t think you need to worry.” Taehyung started off confident but genuine. “You are a pretty good quarterback, that’s why they chose you to be it. You'll do just fine, don’t overthink about that. Your body will remember everything once you’re on the field you know?” He squeezed Jimin’s shoulder and then proceeded. “About the exam... I can help? I know a few things so maybe we can just revise it before you go to sleep? I can stay up and read it to you?” Taehyung would do anything to help Jimin, especially if it was about something he cared about. Even when he was little, he used to stood up to boys who tried to be mean to Jimin even if he was scared to death of them.  

“But what about the party?!”  

“What party?” Taehyung asked. Was there a party he wasn’t invited for?

“The volley’s team is playing home. I'm sure there’ll be a party even if they lose, which I doubt. It’s an easy game.” Jimin said, thinking of what Jungkook had said at lunch the day before. He was confident they would win the game by far. “If we go to the party we can’t study.”  

“Oh... It’ll be a pity if we lose the party, right?” Taehyung let an ‘huh?’ “Maybe... we can just not sleep and try to get all that history in your head?” He suggested but the look on his face wasn’t too confident. It wasn’t a party if they didn’t get completely hammered.  

“I’m screwed.” Jimin said after a few minutes of ponderation, letting out again another sigh. “Might as well go out with a bang, right?” He shrugged and they walked a bit more. But then the thought of his parents came to his mind and all the effort they had done for him, he couldn’t let them down and lose his scholarship. “Maybe I should find a job? To help my parents?”  

“You know you wouldn’t even be able to tend to your basic needs if you did that... you’re already all packed!” Taehyung said worried.  

Jimin’s family wasn’t loaded, but they’d always lived well. His dad worked as an accountant for many years now and he reached a point where he was making a lot of money, so much so that his mom even quitted her job. They even found a house in one of the nicest neighborhoods, that’s how him and Taehyung were friends, they were front neighbors and they would play every day. Them and Carolina, but she wasn’t very fond of Jimin and he never quite understood why. But a couple of years back, the company for whom Jimin’s dad worked had a crisis and they had to let go more than half of their employees. Luckily, Jimin’s dad wasn’t one of them but it was getting hard for him to sustain an entire family on his back. That was one of the reasons he had to stay on campus. That and because both him and Taehyung wanted to have the “full college experience”.  

“Did they tell you something? Maybe I could like find a job and help you out?”  

“Not really. I talked to my mom yesterday and she said my dad had been working late. They're threating to fire a couple of people so he’s been doing some extra hours to not be part of the ones who will be fired.” Jimin said in a sad tone that Taehyung picked up right away.  

“I’m sure your dad will be fine! He’s a good worker! And like I said, if you need me to help, I can help you. I'll look for some part times next to our dorm.” And he already knew Jimin wouldn’t be capable of ever asking him to but he would still look, just in case his friend needed help.  

“It’s ok Tae, but thank you.” Jimin squeezed his shoulder and that meant he was grateful for everything his friend would do for him. Taehyung gave him a sweet smile.  

They kept on walking, talking about some random things that would pop into their minds. That was until Jimin stopped on his track, furrowing his eyes as if he was trying to see someone and Taehyung did the same, trying to look in the same direction he was.  

“I know that girl…” Jimin trailed off. “Oh, that’s Jean from my class. Hey Jean!” He walked up to her, followed right after by Taehyung. She was leaning against a tree, a book in hand.  

“Oh hum… hey… Jimin.” She started off shy. She wasn’t even aware he knew of her existence.  

“Are you alone?” He asked and she simply nodded.  

“Oh is that Free?” Taehyung sneaked out of Jimin’s back, seeing the manga the girl was reading.  

“Yeah, I just started reading it.”  

“Woah!” He said excited. “I didn’t know there is a manga for it, I only know the anime.” Taehyung said while peaking over to see the pages.

“You should try it then, it’s even better than the anime for now.” She smiled politely to him.  

“I will!”  

“We’re headed to the field, wanna come?” Jimin said as he pulled his bag up his shoulder.  

“Oh no… thank you anyway!”  

“Well, I’ll see you in class then!” Jimin waved off, starting to walk back to the field.  

“Bye Jean!”  

“What are you going to do now?” Jimin asked, noticing they were just a couple of feet away from the field.  

“I’m going to lie down there.” Taehyung pointed towards the bleachers where a couple of cheerleaders were already sitting down. “Imma watch you play and I'll take some photos to remind you how great you look.”  

“Ah~~!” Jimin let out an overexaggerated sigh, his hands over his heart. “You are my best friend, you know that!”  

“I know, I'm the best.”  

The boys parted ways. Jimin went into the locker room to change into his uniform and Taehyung took out his camera, ready to take some shots. The cheerleaders were all gathered, sitting in a circle going over the routine for this game and he noticed Deo, from the night before. Their eyes met for a couple of seconds before she looked away, turning her attention to what some other girl was saying. Soon the boys got out of the facilities, helmets under their arms and walked straight to the coach. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to fall asleep. His tummy was still kinda full from lunch and the sun was just making everything better. He was warm and the hard wood from the bleachers didn’t seem so bad so he just laid down, taking up 5 spaces. He woke up a couple of hours later, with Jimin shaking him up, laughing hard. ‘Oh man, your forehead, no bandanas for you for a couple of days.’ And as soon as he touched his forehead, he hissed. Did he really had to keep his arm all over his face BUT miss his forehead, no luck.  

On the other side of the campus, the study session got a little bit calmer after Hyori started explaining everything the best way she could and Asa was trying his best to pay attention but it was hard. Even harder for Hyori, who kept on laughing at his jokes and interventions. Jeonghan was regretting ever telling his roommate about his plans for the afternoon but he couldn't just kick him out, at least not in front of Hyori. After a while, Hyori's phone kept on beeping and she just had to excuse herself from what she was teaching Jeonghan to take a look at it. 

"Guys, the study session is great and I wish I could stay more but it's getting late and I promised my friends I would have dinner with them…" She pouted a little. "You guys mind if I go?"

"Of course!" They both said at the same time.

"Kiri I'll be waiting for our next study session!" Asa says getting up, mimicking Hyori's movements. 

"Stop being annoying!" Jeonghan whispered to him, widening his eyes to Asa. 

"Please do!" She laughed to Asa, not even noticing Jeonghan's face. "It was really nice to meet you Asa. Thank you, you two for today, I had a good time" She smiled kindly to the both of them, giving a kiss in the cheek to each one of them. "Bye guys~ See you around!"

“Dude what the hell!” Jeonghan slapped his roommate’s head, annoyed that he ruined his little date.  

“What did I do?!” Asa scratched the place where he was hit, still looking at Hyori fade in the distance.  

Hyori was hugging her books so tight; she kept her eyes on the floor, overly excited by her study session and was trying her best to steady her breathing. She already knew she was going to get teased for being late, something she never did and always complained when Jungkook was. Her pace her face and she as a hole bumped into a tall boy that quickly apologize. She did the same.  

Namjoon kept on looking at her as she walked a little too fast. His heart tightened a bit, did he hurt her when they bumped into each other? He was so focused on going over his speech for debate club on his head that he didn’t even noticed where he was going. That and the fact that tonight’s debate was against Najma Aweys. She was this pretty girl who was majoring in English Lit and she caught his eyes ever since his first debate against another college. That was the moment he first noticed her.  

His dad was nagging his head for over a month now because the semester was almost over and he still didn’t have any extracurricular activities to add to his resume alongside his perfect record of attendance and grades. So tired of hearing him, he joined the debate club and the president was so impressed by his arguments that he was invited to join the regional contest.  

He remembers that day perfectly. He was so nervous he was afraid the sweat was going to be noticeable on his armpits since the air-conditioner wasn’t working and it was almost 38°C. Najma was wearing a soft blue flowy dress that fitted her curves perfectly and made her look almost like a princess but once she started talking and disarming her opponent, that was when it really hit him. He was crushing on her.  

“Hey Najma!” He waved at her as he saw her talking outside the debate club with her girlfriends. “Nice suit.” He winked as she smiled politely to him.  

“Hey Nam!” It was her nickname for him.  

He was too awkward to have a full conversation with her, the only thing he always managed to do was these small interactions. And to him, it was better than nothing. Jin would always tease him about having to make a move 'Dude if she has a nickname for you that means something. Who knows more about girls than me?’ and that would always make Carolina laugh and tease him about how even the clueless Tae was smoother than himself, the old timer.  

Hyori was now jogging. The café that was only a couple of minutes away from campus seemed like it was miles away and she was getting frustrated for being late. Even Jungkook was already there. She stopped when she saw the sign right around the corner and she turned it, all her friends were sitting outside, in a table that clearly wasn’t made for 5 people but they were all squeezing in to be together. Once they noticed her, everyone stopped talking just to pick it up right back, but now directed to her.  

“Oh look who finally decided to show up!”  

“There she is!”  

“Can we eat now? I’m starving!!”  

“Sorry I’m late!” Hyori said trying to catch her breath from all the jogging but still making her best to look normal.  

“And where have you been to be this late?” Jungkook put up his wrist tapping on it like he had a watch there and his left eyebrow was arched. This was the perfect moment for him to excuse himself from all the times he was late and nag Hyori.  

“None of your business.” The girl said taking a seat on the end of the table, right between Deo and Jimin.  

“Is everything ok?” Hoseok asked, honestly concerned.  

“What do you mean none of my business?” Jungkook stepped all over Hobi’s question. “I always have to tell you where I was!”  

“And that’s because you’re a child.” Deo teased, sticking her tongue out making Jungkook scoff and make some comment about not knowing why they were even friends. The only thing he wasn’t doing yet was pouting.  

“Jungkookie, we’re your best friends, stop being grumpy.” Jimin said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder.

“Everything is fine Hobi, just took me a while to get here.” Hyori smiled to the boy that was on the other end of the table, completely ignoring Jungkook.  

“Where were you then missy?” Deo asked again, since Hyori had managed to escape the question.  

“I was on the library studying! I lost track of time! Oh~” she looked around to the plates of some boys that were already ready to be ate. “What are you guys eating?  

“I ordered some fries! With cheese on top.” Hobi said proudly, looking at his dish.

“Pizza, but don’t- I need to know!” Deo whined.  

“Of course she wasn’t in the library” Jungkook rolled his eyes, joining Deo and folding his arms to give his sentence more impact. “No one loses track of time in a library.”  

Hyori gave Deo a knowing look that she understood right after. It meant ‘please shut up I’ll tell you everything at the dorms’. “Well that’s because you have no braincells.” she finally answered Jungkook. 

“And it depends on what you’re doing there.” Jimin teased.  

“Are you serious?” Jungkook pretended a hurt look. “Woah… I should find new friends.”  

“Oh stop you two! Let’s just eat!” Hobi said, tired of waiting to eat his chips that were getting cold.  

“She started it!” Jungkook whined, making everyone laugh.  

“It’s ok, I’ll ask for a round for us Gguk!” Jimin whispered to the boy.  

“Shut up virgin boy.” Hyori furrowed her eyebrows making Deo automatically spit her drink, not being able to control her laughter.  

“You’re going way too far, Lee!”  

“Guys!” Hobi and Jimin both said at the same time, tired of hearing them.  

“Ok kids, that’s enough.” Deo said standing up and pulling Hyori right behind her. “We’re going to order her food.”  

“Bring beer!”  

“Don’t forget my sprite!”  

“On it!” Hyori said winking to Hobi. Once they stepped inside the door Deo started asking a million questions.  

“So~~ you’ll tell me now or you’re going to make me suffer and wait until we get to the dorms?”  

“Please don't do a scandal, and I'll tell you better once we are at the dorms but basically I was with Jeonghan but a friend of his arrived and sat there with us and he was like the cutest” she emphasized a lot in the last word “I must have blushed like tons"

"You're still blushing, it looks like you ran a marathon" She chuckled, excited with her friend’s life. "But ok, serious face on but once we get to the dorms, you'll have to tell me everything!"

“I literally ran a marathon to get here!” They both laugh and the waiter finally comes.  

Hyori orders a plain burger with fries, she’s not very hungry. And after all she ran if she ate a lot she’d probably throw up. They pay the drinks and the food and the waiter informs them the food will only take a couple of minutes and he’ll bring it to the table. Once they step outside, Jimin shushes the other boys.  

"Oh yes, such nice weather here!" He says a little too loud, pretending nothing happened, but the girls were too smart not to notice their whispers.  

"What do you think of the weather Jungkook?" Deo asks Jungkook, arching her eyebrow to him. Next to him, Hobi was looking up to the clouds, almost whistling, making his best to avoid eye contact.  

“The weather?” His voice got up an octave. “Yup, super nice! We should go to the pool and uh… have a party?” His tone was nothing but confident and Deo couldn’t help but laugh at his silliness.  

“Oh~~ we should really go to the pool!” Jimin said now excited with the thought of a swim. “Let’s go after we eat!”  

“Ok cut the crap. The weather? Really?” Hyori said still standing up next to the table, one hand on her hip showing even more authority.  

“It is a nice weather.” Deo joked.  

Hyori arched her eyebrow and looked at Hoseok that immediately look everywhere but to her. “Hobi look at me.”  

“Hey don’t force eye contact like that! You weirdo!” Jungkook said but she ignored him.  

“Hum…” Hoseok trailed off, exchanging looks with the boys. “Sorry bro… basically there’s this new girl-”

He’s interrupted. “Dude what the fuck!” Jimin and Jungkook said at the same time and if it weren’t a desperate time, they would’ve high fived.  

“Jimin likes her, she’s one year older than him and her name is Sarah. That’s all I know.” He lowered his head in defeat and then turned to Jimin. “Sorry!”  

“DUDE BRO CODE!” Jimin said, frustrated.  

“Wow, we can’t even talk in peace now.” Jungkook shrugged.  

“Huh…” Deo started, “and you weren’t going to tell us!”  

“Sorry! I’m an honest guy!” Hobi said, putting a chip right in front of Jimin’s mouth that he just couldn’t refuse.  

“Oh please tell me all about her!” Hyori now sat down, waiting expectantly.  

“See! They can help!” Hoseok added.  

After that, Jimin was forced to spill all the details he had on the Sarah girl. He didn’t really know much but Hyori and Deo already were with their phones on their hands searching on social media for the girl. If she was majoring in Investigative Journalism, she had to have any form of social media, and if she did, they would find her. Jimin wouldn’t be able to hide the girl from them for a very long time and in a way he was glad Hobi spilled everything because although Jungkook loved a good gossip, he was terrible at getting information. By the end of the dinner, the girls already found out that Sarah was friends with one of the boys Hyori tutored and now it was only a matter of days until they started planning a super scheme to make her and Jimin talk. They were good friends like that.  

Jungkook was the first to abandon the hangout because he had practice and he, obviously, didn’t have his bag done to shower. Once he got to his floor, the smell of barbeque filled his nostrils and he wasn’t walking anymore, he was more like floating, following the amazing smell. He ended up in front of his own door. Once he opened it, he saw Yoongi and Namjoon eating.  

“Hey man.” Yoongi said once he noticed him.  

“You want some?” Namjoon asked, turning around in his chair to see Jungkook.

“The smell in the hall… amazing guys.” He chuckled. “Thanks, but I have to say no, I have practice in a few.”  

“This late?” Namjoon said already feeling sorry for the boy.  

“Are you sure you can handle going to practice on an empty stomach?” Yoongi asked. He didn’t hang much with Jungkook but he liked to have him as a roommate. He was quiet, clean and he liked the same type of food as him.  

“Yeah, we have a game Saturday and coach is going crazy with our practices. We’re even playing with the girls now.” He laughs lightly. “I ate like an hour ago. I’ll probably end up bringing something home.” He says turning to Yoongi that only nods.  

“With girls? Like… girls in mini shorts?” Namjoon says already excited, the thought of joining the team, running through his mind.  

“Wish it was that good bro.” Jungkook laughs dryly, tapping on his shoulder. “Most of them look like Hulk, they enter full beast mode.”  

“Oh… that must be- uh… Nevermind.” He turns back to his food.  

Yoongi couldn’t keep a straight face to Namjoon’s comment and laughed lightly. He heard rumors about a party and Jungkook confirmed it right away, inviting them to join after the game. They talked a little bit more about their crazy front door neighbor. It was an old lady, maybe in her 60’s and she acted like she was 20. Hell, she even lived near campus. Besides her, everyone in the building was a student. The new good story was that she was developing a crush on Namjoon. Every time she heard him leave the house, she would peek her head out of the door, with rolls on her hair and say ‘have a good day handsome’.

Jungkook excuses himself and goes inside his room, picking up his gym bag from the floor. He quickly shuffles through his clothes and picks up a random shirt and a pair of shorts, a towel and his flipflops. He crossed the living room, saying goodbye to the older boys that were finishing eating and left, towards the elevator.  

“Oh hey Jin.” Jungkook said once the elevator’s door opened, revealing his neighbor from the top floor.  

“Hey man, how are you?”  

“It’s been a while since I last saw you. Since the photoshoot...” He recalled the moment they were together for the last time. It was a photography class and Carolina had brought Jin and Taehyung to model. Jungkook ended up befriending both boys and took photos of them as well.  

“Ah~~” Jin lets out a satisfied sound, remembering that day as well. “It was fun and the shoots you took of me looked great.”  

“If you ever need new ones hit me up.” They reach the ground floor and both exit the elevator, walking side by side until they leave the building completely.  

“You have practice?” Jin asked, only now noticing Jungkook’s bag.  

“Yeah, it’s in a few.”  

“I can take you. I’m going out with a friend but it’s still early, I can drop you there.”  

“I won’t say no to that. If I had to walk all the way back to campus I doubt I'd be able to score.” He chuckles. They got inside the car and it took Jin a while to start it. “Is everything alright?”  

“Oh yeah, I'm just waiting for Carolina, she should be coming down any second. She has practice too.”  

‘Oh boy’ Jungkook thought to himself. Carolina only frowned when she saw him but before she could say anything Jin told her to get in or else they would be late. She had to get into the backseat, very reluctantly and once they got to campus, she quicken up her pace to not even have to talk with the so called virgin boy. He honestly didn’t mind, after the last time they were together, things went south really fast.  

The vibe was bugging Jin and he made a self-note to ask Carolina what had happened between the two but probably not today. He was going out with his friend Harry, a boy from his major that finished off last year but they maintained contact. If he didn’t get home very drunk, it wasn’t his friend Harry. But once he woke up, he would remember to ask.  

Jungkook saw you the moment you arrived at the wedding.

Your long, wavy hair spilled in dark cascades over your graphite-colored coat, a perfect choice for the end of winter, light enough without being careless. Wine-red lipstick stained your smile, a smile that seemed fixed in place, unwilling to fade. Your almond-shaped nails, painted a deep crimson to match, gleamed subtly in the low light. But what caught his eyes, what gutted him, was the ring. That fucking ring. A silver band with a teardrop diamond at its center, so large he could spot it from across the room, so sharp it felt like it was staring him down.

How many carats was it? Did you even care?

He knew you didn’t.

It had to be Henry’s doing, your husband, show of wealth, of power, of ownership. Jungkook had heard people say Europeans were like that. And Henry, well, he wasn’t a bad man. Successful, yes. A giant in the Western music industry, owner of one of the biggest record labels in the world. Jungkook had once admired him, even interacted with him a few times back then.

But that was before.

Before you married him. Before you left Jungkook behind. Before, when you and Jungkook had still sworn you were each other’s forever. Three years ago.

Now, you stood across the room from him, your back turned, while another man, your man, slipped your coat from your shoulders. His wedding ring, the one you had placed on his hand, gleamed under the lights too.

Beneath the coat, your maroon dress dipped low, revealing your back. The ink of your tattoo trailed down your spine, the same one Jungkook used to kiss, dot by dot, following the path of your freckles with his lips.

Did you still get dressed naked in front of the mirror? He wondered, lifting his glass of whiskey to his lips and swallowing hard. Did you still light your scented candles and go through that careful ritual before going out?

Jungkook hadn’t wanted to be at that wedding, hadn’t even considered the possibility of seeing you there, but it made sense now, Anthony Westwood, the groom, was a music producer, likely tied to Henry through industry threads. Anthony had become a close friend over the past year, working on BTS’s new album, their late-night talks spilling beyond studio walls into something deeper, something personal. It would’ve been rude for Jungkook to skip the event, especially with the rest of the members there, before the U.S. tour kicked off in a week.

You were there, just as he remembered, yet impossibly different.

His stomach twisted. He thought he might be sick. Because then you turned. And the sight hit him like a blade straight to the chest.

The dress draped you perfectly, light, flowing, yet cinched tight at the waist. But what it framed was unmistakable. Your stomach. Rounded, showing.

You were pregnant.

Five months, maybe more. Pregnant with another man’s child.

Jungkook’s fingers tingled, the sensation crawling up his arms and lodging itself in his chest. It felt like his own body was betraying him, like his heart had forgotten how to beat, how to keep him alive. His mouth went dry, his vision white at the edges. The taste of bitterness flooded his throat.

He was dying. He was certain of it.

And yet, you didn’t even see him. Probably couldn’t. Your eyes squinted as you spoke to the blonde woman in front of you, someone who looked far too close, far too familiar. You must have forgotten your contact lenses again. Typical of you.

Jungkook wanted to scream.

Because you had always wanted this. To be a mother. He remembered every conversation about it, what it would be like, what names you would choose, how you’d decorate the nursery, what traditions you’d pass down. And most of all, how he would be your baby daddy.

He thought he might collapse right there, knees to the floor, begging a God he never even knew he had faith in to rip that indescribable pain out of his chest. Right there, in front of all those people celebrating the happiness of a couple about to vow forever, while the love of his life had just been stolen from him completely.

Pregnant.

The word buzzed in his head, a deafening, disorienting noise. Pregnant with Henry’s baby. Another life growing inside you.

It was obscene. Cruel. It felt like a punishment carved into every fiber of Jungkook’s being, into every cell that made him who he was, every part of him you had once touched. Every part that had once belonged to you.

His throat was tight. No one here could possibly understand the panic clawing through him, the way his chest rose and fell too quickly, the way the whiskey glass shook in his hand. He tried to force the liquor down, but his throat refused, burning with both the bitterness of alcohol and of you.

And there you were, glowing in that devastating way only pregnant women do, carrying proof of a future that had erased him entirely.

When he finally managed to swallow the whiskey, it scorched all the way down. God, it burned.

His jaw tightened as he stared at you, a thousand memories bleeding into the sight before him. His stomach lurched, nausea rising sharp and merciless at the thought of Henry’s hands on you, of Henry’s child inside you. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, forcing himself to hold it together, but the truth was merciless.

You weren’t his anymore. And you never would be again. Still, he couldn’t stop watching you.

Because some part of him, a pathetic, broken part, was waiting. Waiting for you to look up, to notice him standing there. To see him the way you used to. To remember.

But you didn’t.

You only smiled, hand drifting unconsciously to your stomach while the blonde beside you spoke, and Jungkook felt his heart rip itself apart piece by piece.

The people around Jungkook didn’t notice. Or if they did, they chose to ignore the way he looked, strange, hollow, breaking apart from the inside out. No one could ever really know, anyway. No one could survive carrying the knowledge of what it felt like to be him, in his skin, in this moment. No one could endure the truth that he barely remembered how to breathe, let alone how to stand, how to walk, how to keep living.

So he sat through it.

In that vast, glittering hall, all open glass and polished marble, everyone gathered to celebrate a wedding that had little to do with him. People clapped, people smiled, people cried into silk handkerchiefs while vows were spoken. And Jungkook dissociated just enough to get through it. The ceremony passed like smoke, like something unreal. He couldn’t hold onto a single word.

And maybe that was better. Because in that moment, the last thing he wanted was anything to do with love stories.

Instead, he sat there with nothing but a vacant stare, an empty glass of whiskey, and the unbearable need to avoid your face, while you sat only a few rows ahead of him. He could still see you in profile, the curve of your cheek, your smile gentle as you leaned toward someone speaking to you. Your hand rested protectively on your stomach, as though guarding the life that grew inside you.

Every time his eyes landed on that gesture, on that stomach, he had to look away. He stared into the hollow of his glass. He stared out the tall windows at the mountains, capped with soft snow, ancient and indifferent. He stared up at the ceiling, dripping with flowers, roses, lilies, hydrangeas, so many blooms he couldn’t begin to count them. Crimson petals here and there. White orchids, too.

And he wondered, were orchids still your favorite?Or had that changed too, like everything else?

Had you married Henry on a beach, the way you once swore you wanted to?

He didn’t know. He realized, with a bitter twist, that he didn’t know anything about your life anymore. You had always been private, your social media locked down, your circle impossibly small. After the breakup, you vanished from Korea, completely.

Had you gone to Europe with Henry? That would make sense. His empire was there, his influence vast. And yet, Jungkook refused to believe you had not returned home just for Henry. That wasn’t you. You had always longed for home, for your parents, for the comfort of the familiar.

But facts were crueler than dreams. The truth was simple.

You were in New York. And Jungkook was in New York. The same city, the same room, for the first time in four years.

And it was suffocating him more than he ever thought possible. Pregnant, married, untouchable.

Still, he couldn’t stop. His eyes sought you even as he forced himself to look away. And then, for a single fleeting second, it happened.

You turned. Over your shoulder, your gaze caught his.

It was so quick it could have been nothing, just a trick of light, just a mistake. But it wasn’t. It was there. And on your lips, a small, sad smile.

It destroyed him.

Because it told him everything and nothing all at once. It told him you hadn’t forgotten. That somewhere, buried deep, you remembered too.

Jungkook wanted to leave. If nobody had noticed you before, everyone noticed you now. And they understood why Jungkook had been staring into nothing, looking like he’d just seen a ghost, because he literally had.

The pity in his friends’ eyes was almost tangible, and Jungkook hated it. They liked you. I mean, how could they not? You were undeniably charismatic, always bringing life to parties, and you were funny, not in that forced way, but the kind that made people laugh effortlessly. Everyone said you were the perfect match for Jungkook.

And now, someone said something about you that he chose to ignore, sitting at the table assigned to them. Jungkook was grateful you weren’t directly in his line of sight like during the ceremony. Especially because he was forced to stay a little longer for the reception. How rude would it be to fly all the way from Korea to the United States just for this wedding and then leave before midnight?

So, he drank.

That’s when Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi stood up, all three at once, while Jungkook swallowed another sip of whiskey. They spoke, glancing at him, looking somewhat hesitant, somewhat concerned. Jungkook didn’t really know how to describe that look and he didn’t want to.

“We’re gonna go over to…” Jimin started, but didn’t finish. Instead, his eyes shifted toward the table Jungkook knew was yours.

Taehyung cleared his throat, tilting his head to the side, a slow sigh escaping as he bit his lower lip.

“We’re just gonna say hi,” he said, his voice too careful, like he was tiptoeing across a minefield. Yoongi stayed silent, his dark eyes fixed on Jungkook, searching for something, permission, maybe, or a spark of anger. But Jungkook wasn’t angry. He was shattered, pieces of him scattered across the polished floor of the reception hall.

He wanted to beg them not to go, not to walk toward you, not to stir the ashes of a life you’d once shared. Weekends that stretched too long, filled with your laughter, how you’d convinced Jimin to jump into a pool on a rainy Seoul afternoon, your grin so infectious it was almost absurd. How Taehyung would drink too much when you were around, goaded by your teasing challenges, glass after glass until he was stumbling, laughing. How Yoongi, stoic Yoongi, had once cried with you both until dawn after a breakup. You’d been woven into their world, into his world, so tightly it had felt unbreakable. Now, you were a stranger.

But you were happy, weren’t you? Wasn’t that supposed to be enough?

“Go ahead,” Jungkook said, edged with a coldness he didn’t feel. He stared at the empty whiskey glass in his hand, unwilling to meet their eyes.

“You sure?” Jimin asked, searching Jungkook’s face. Jungkook shrugged, forcing himself to look back.

“She’s your friend, isn’t she?” he said, the words hollow. “Or at least she used to be.”

You used to be everything. His, most of all. Now you belonged to someone else, to a life that had erased him, to a man whose ring gleamed on your finger, whose child grew inside you.

Jungkook’s eyes burned with the urge to look, to steal a glance at what was happening at your table, where Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi had gone. But he couldn’t. It would make him look weak, indecisive, like a man clinging to a ghost. But he couldn’t help it. Just one glance, quick and over his shoulder. And there you were, standing, your arms wrapped around Jimin in a hug and Taehyung was next, his grin wide as he pulled you in, you laughed. Henry stood beside you, shaking Yoongi’s hand, his smile polished. Jungkook’s stomach churned, and he snapped his eyes forward.

Namjoon, still at the table, shifted in his seat, his gaze on Jungkook. The rest of the members were scattered, Hoseok and Jin somewhere in the crowd. It was just the two of them now. Namjoon leaned forward.

"You don’t have to stay, you know. You could say it’s jet lag. No one would question it.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“I’m fine,” he said, lying. He wasn’t fine. He was drowning.

Namjoon tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You haven’t said a word to her yet. You don’t… want to?”

He fucking wanted to. He forced a shrug again.

“Why would I?” he muttered, but the words felt hollow. He wanted to talk to you, wanted to demand answers, to ask why you’d chosen Henry, why you’d erased him so completely. But he couldn’t. Not when you looked so happy.

“I’ll go say hi to her in a bit,” Namjoon said finally, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m here with you now, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made Jungkook’s throat tighten. He nodded, grateful for Namjoon’s presence and for the way he didn’t force him to explain. Namjoon’s voice broke the silence again, softer now.

“Seeing her with her husband, happily married” he gestured toward your table, “was it worse in person?”

Jungkook’s breath caught, his fingers twitching against the table. He wanted to laugh, bitterly, but all that came out was a low sound.

“It’s not about her being married.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened, and Jungkook hated it, hated the understanding there, the quiet acknowledgment. It wasn’t the ring on your finger or the vows you’d taken with Henry that broke him. It was the life growing inside you, the future you’d built without him, the dreams you’d once whispered to him. Those were the things that cut deepest, that carved something into his bones, a longing so profound it felt like it might never fade.

He glanced at your table again, against his better judgment, and saw you laughing, your hand resting on Taehyung’s arm as he told some story. Henry was there, his arm around your waist, his smile almost possessive. Jungkook’s heart twisted, and he forced his eyes away, back to the table, to Namjoon.

“She’s happy,” he said, more to himself than to Namjoon. “That’s what matters, right?”

Namjoon didn’t answer, but his silence was enough.

Jin and Hobi returned to the table, pulling Jungkook from his thoughts and shattering the quiet comfort of Namjoon’s presence. It was a relief, in a way, to focus on something other than you. Other than whether you’d shared the name of your baby with his friends. What would you and Henry name your baby? Jungkook knew the names you’d once dreamed of for the children you’d planned with him. You’d never agreed on names. You loved Sophia or Sienna. He preferred Hayoon, Seoyoon. You’d argued they should work in both your worlds, but consensus was never reached. Still, you’d settled on a placeholder for the daughter you imagined, calling her Sunray. He couldn’t even recall how it started, that silly name. It was never meant to be official. You’d promised to decide together.

But that future never came.

The ache of it, that feeling, a longing for a life that slipped away, clawed at him. He forced a smile as Jin said a joke.

By that point, he was already convinced you hadn’t looked back at him once. Not a single glance.

Aa the night progresses, he drank too much, too fast. The alcohol was burning through his veins when he finally got up, head down, the party hall spun just enough for him to need to lean on the chair he had been sitting in before.

“Everything okay?” Hoseok asked, his eyes resting on Jungkook.

“Just the whiskey hitting,” he murmured as he turned on his heels to walk toward the bathroom straight ahead, which meant he wouldn’t even have to pass by his table.

He made his way through the crowd, a few people greeted him from a distance, and he tried his best not to stumble along the way, which worked, up to a point, because when he looked straight ahead to know exactly where he was going, he felt someone bump his shoulder. Lightly, nothing much, but when Jungkook looked to the side, his throat went dry.

Henry.

“Sorry, mate” he said in that British accent Jungkook had always thought was cool, but at that moment it made him sick. The color of his eyes was the same as yours, but in a lighter shade. Which made Jungkook think this would be the color of your baby’s eyes, but he hoped the shade would be exactly yours and not Henry’s.

“Oh, it’s you, Jungkook.” He said with the softest voice, almost friendly. He was taller than Jungkook, brown wavy hair pushed back, clean-shaven, broad shoulders. And even with Jungkook’s muscular build, growing even bigger from more frequent gym visits, he felt small next to Henry. But instead of letting that intimidate him in any way, Jungkook squared his shoulders and straightened his posture.

“No problem,” Jungkook muttered, nodding right after, ready to return on his way to the restroom, but Henry wasn’t finished yet.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” Henry said, his voice a bit husky, and Jungkook hated the sound of it, feeling the alcohol cloud his mind.

“Yes. A long time,” Jungkook forced out, in an English that barely came out, making himself lock eyes with the man’s eyes, though it took a tremendous effort not to look away, not to let the alcohol or the anger or the ache in his chest take over.

Henry flashed a small smile that set Jungkook on edge, one of those victorious ones, the kind that seemed to rub in Jungkook’s face everything he had taken from him.

“Groom’s side?” he asked, and Jungkook simply nodded. “Me too,” Henry said with that same small smile. “Small world.”

“Small world,” Jungkook repeated, forcing the closest thing to a convincing smile he could manage.

“Your group, right? Growing bigger every year, if that’s even possible,” Henry said casually, as if trying to make conversation, or prolong this awkward encounter. But Jungkook was too broken, too hollow, to pretend.

“Yeah.”

As expected, the conversation died. They stared at each other, Henry arching a brow as if waiting for something more, and Jungkook doing the same, unsure of what was expected of him. He tried to sidestep Henry, to escape the presence, but the man spoke again.

“You should come by our table,” Henry said. “She’d love to catch up.”

Catch up.

Jungkook almost laughed bitterly. As if they were old friends who had simply lost touch over the years, not two people who had loved each other for five years, shared dreams that Henry had stolen away.

His stomach churned again, and Jungkook couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey or the thought of standing in front of you, pretending everything was fine.

“Maybe later.” He lied, not even sure how he managed to form a sentence that sounded natural. “I need to go over there now.” Jungkook nodded toward the front and moved away from Henry.

Henry clapped a hand on his shoulder, meant to be friendly, probably, but it felt like fire, searing through his jacket and into his skin.

Jungkook walked away in long strides, heading toward the restroom, his shoulder still burning where Henry had touched him.

Suddenly, he didn’t need to go to the bathroom at all. He needed air. He needed to escape.

But his feet carried him to the restroom anyway.

He didn’t trust himself to make it to the exit without doing something stupid, like running after you or punching Henry in his perfect, smug face.

The bathroom was empty. Jungkook grip his hands on the sink, staring at his reflection. His tie was crooked, hair falling into his eyes, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He looked like a mess, but not nearly as wrecked as he felt inside.

He let the icy water run over his hands, hoping it would do something for him. But it didn’t help.

He splashed water on his face, harder than necessary, then dragged his hands down his cheeks. But it was useless. You were burned into him, permanent, like the ink on your spine. He could still feel the ghost of your skin under his fingertips, the way you used to lean into him, the soft laugh when he kissed just below your ea as you used to like so much.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the sink so hard his knuckles whitened. He forced himself to breathe, to count to ten, to do anything to keep from collapsing right there.

He didn’t know how long he stood like that, but eventually he straightened, wiped his hands and forced himself to leave the bathroom.

As he stepped out of the restroom, he noticed a door to the side with a sign he understood to be an emergency exit. He pressed his palms against it almost abruptly, pushing the door open to leave the party hall. The moment he did, the icy night air hit his face, filling his nostrils and rushing into his lungs like it was the first real breath of oxygen he’d had all night.

He felt, in some way, pathetic, but he loved you too much not to feel that night physically tearing through his insides. He leaned against the cold wall for a moment, trying desperately to stop the tears from spilling down his face. But before he could even think about how to hold them back, the door opened.

You didn’t see him by the door at first, your dress clung to you, shifting slightly in the wind. He quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen involuntarily as you glanced around, until your eyes finally landed on Jungkook. You sighed, your shoulders dropping as you brushed a loose strand of hair from your cheek where it had stuck to your lips. You looked like you felt sorry for him, and he understood that, which, once again, destroyed him, as if there was still something left to break.

The cold bit at Jungkook’s skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill that settled in his chest when he saw you standing there, the curve of your belly and Jungkook’s eyes dropped to it instinctively before he forced them back to your face.

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice low. It was the first time he’d heard you say his name in years, and it hit him.

Jungkook even opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, as if trying to realign his thoughts that had been completely scattered by your voice saying his name, by your presence materializing in front of him. Jungkook shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, running his tongue across his lips to moisten them, fighting against the urge to ask you a million questions. Instead, all he managed was a simple:

“Hey.”

It sounded casual, just like he wanted it to. You took a small step forward, tilting your head slightly, as if subtly studying him.

“I didn’t know you’d be here today,” you said. Your accent was stronger than he remembered, probably from not speaking Korean for a while, he thought. “And I saw you in there… and coming out here.”

You added that as you stepped closer again, and Jungkook felt the instinct to retreat, but the wall behind his back wouldn’t let him.

“Mm-hm,” he replied simply. It was more of a sound than an actual response because he didn’t even trust himself to speak at that moment. But his eyes, inevitably, dropped again to your pregnant belly, and of course you noticed. How could you not? He hated how impossible it was not to look.

Your hand went instinctively to your belly when you caught his gaze, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Jungkook said nothing. He looked away, and you sighed again. Then you took more steps, which at first he thought were toward him, but they weren’t. You just moved to stand beside him, leaning against the wall with your hands behind you. You were probably cold in that dress, with its open back and bare shoulders. Jungkook noticed the fine hairs on your arms slightly raised when he glanced at you quickly.

He didn’t dare speak. Neither did you. So, for what felt like an eternity, there was a heavy silence. Jungkook’s eyes stayed glued to his own shoes. He was completely still, but you seemed somehow restless, shifting slightly as if you couldn’t get comfortable. Jungkook figured it was because the situation was unbearably uncomfortable.

He sighed, gathered what little courage he had left, and finally spoke:

“So… what were you doing out here?”

He turned his face toward you, and you did the same, but only briefly, before your gaze wandered off into the distance again.

“I saw you come out here,” you murmured. “And then I noticed you’ve been drinking a lot tonight.”

You let out a soft laugh that vanished like the wind. Jungkook pressed his lips together. There was no denying it and he didn’t want to anyway. He just nodded, his eyes flicking to your face. You looked back at him then, your eyes scanning his features now. He felt it, he was probably even redder than before.

“Believe me, if I could drink right now, I’d be drinking too.” Your words were meant to be a joke, to ease the tension, but they landed like a stone in Jungkook’s chest. He didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile.

Why? Why would you need to drink? He wanted to demand to know why you’d say something like that when he was the one losing everything, the one watching his entire world slip through his fingers while you stood there, glowing, whole, with a life that didn’t include him. But he didn’t ask. He just stared at you, his heart pounding.

You shifted slightly again, your body adjusting your weight, but he noticed it again. His eyes dropped to your stomach, and he realized it wasn’t just you being restless, it was the baby.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Is… is the baby moving?” he asked, so low you couldn’t quite hear it.

You nodded, your smile softening, your hand drifting to your belly again.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice almost proud. “It’s a boy. He’s been moving a lot today. I ate some chocolate earlier, and he always gets all worked up when I do.” You laughed again.

A boy.

A strange sense of relief hit his chest. Because he knew how much you had always wanted to be a mother and your dream had always been to have a little girl. You always talked about girls, about how there would be two of them, with Jungkook’s eyes, those doe eyes you always said you loved. The smile, you wanted it to be Jungkook’s smile. You didn’t really care about the nose, you always said.

But knowing that Henry’s child was a boy somehow, in a stupid and irrational way, eased him. Even though Jungkook had always said he wanted a boy too. Still, the relief was undeniable and nowhere near reasonable, but he wanted to hold on to it now.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“That’s…” he started, his voice faltering. “That’s… congratulations.”

You nodded, your smile fading just a little.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your hand still moving in small circles over your stomach. You shifted again, and Jungkook couldn’t help but watch.

“Do you… want to feel him?” you asked, your voice hesitant, like you weren’t sure if you were offering too much and crossing a line. Jungkook froze, his breath catching. His eyes flicked to your stomach, then back to your face, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if he could handle it. The idea of touching you, of feeling the life you were carrying, was too much and too painful. But he couldn’t say no. Before he could stop, his hand left his pocket.

You stepped closer, turning to face him fully, and Jungkook’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might break. You reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his.

Your smaller hand rested on the back of Jungkook’s tattooed one, then guided it to meet your other hand, which was icy cold. Your wedding ring was on full display, and it felt like it burned against his skin with that touch. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore.

At the same time, your hand seemed to fit perfectly in his, yet felt far too heavy, like it didn’t belong there anymore. But you guided his hand down to your belly, right over the lower part, gently pressing his palm against it. Your eyes stayed on your hands as Jungkook looked at you. Your features still soft, like barely any time had passed.

And then Jungkook felt it, beneath his hand, a tiny kick. It stole the air from his lungs and maybe even a laugh, one he didn’t control and didn’t even know how it escaped. But you laughed too.

Only it wasn’t really a laugh that Jungkook let out, instead, a stubborn tear slipped down his cheek.

He didn’t want you to see, which is why he turned his face, but you were faster and looked at him, your smile disappeared instantly. Your hands fell from on top of his onto your stomach, but his hand lingered there a moment longer, until you spoke.

“Jungkook…” Your voice wasn’t just filled with concern, there was something bordering on guilt. “I… I…” You started to stammer, and Jungkook pulled his hand away, almost abruptly, making the removal of his hand from your stomach feel like the loss of a connection.

“Don't,” he murmured, bringing his hand to his face, but a single tear fell from the other side of the face he was wiping. It was the alcohol, but not just that, obviously. “Don’t say anything.” Jungkook wiped his face fully and tucked his hand back into his pocket, fighting to keep you from seeing how shaky it really was.

You sighed, opened your mouth, drew in a breath. Jungkook could hear you, but could barely meet your eyes. He cursed those tears, but he couldn’t help them.

“I didn’t mean…” you began, but he looked at you, shaking his head, pulling his hands out of his pockets, leaning forward, and said,

“I said don’t.” He repeated it, not harshly, not coldly, but as if he were begging, desperate.

You nodded slowly. Your arms wrapped around yourself, as if the cold had finally caught up to you, or as if you were realizing coming after him was a mistake, he couldn’t know which. After a few moments, Jungkook finally looked at you. Now, you were twisting your fucking wedding ring around your finger, just as you always did with your regular rings when you were nervous.

“I’m sorry,” you said, in a sigh, meeting Jungkook’s eyes.

“Sorry for what, exactly?” Jungkook let out a laugh he couldn’t hold back, ironic, bitter. “For being happily married and living your dream of becoming a mother?” He rolled his eyes, unintentionally, but couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know,” you admitted softly, and Jungkook let out a nasal laugh and turned his face, resting his head against the wall.

“Don’t do that.” Your voice was firm now, making Jungkook lift his head to look at you. Your arms hung loosely at his sides, but your eyes were sharp. “Don’t start acting like I’m the villain.”

Jungkook let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“No one’s saying that.” His tongue brushed across his lips. “I just didn’t expect to find you here. Pregnant.” He practically spat out the last word.

You put your hands on your hips, tilted your head back, and sighed. Your scent drifted into his nose with the night breeze, sweet and overwhelming and it hit him like it was the first time, even though he had touched you just moments ago. He realized he’d been too nervous to notice it before.

“I didn’t expect to see you either,” you said, your voice sounding almost fragile. “I didn’t think...” You had to clear your throat, and Jungkook’s brow arched. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“Feel like what?” Jungkook asked, his tone bordering on a growl, not out of anger, but desperation. He wanted to know what it meant, what you being there meant. He was unraveling, while you stood in front of him so composed it felt like a cruel joke. As if he was nothing more than a threat to your perfect future.

You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek, inhaling deeply before meeting his eyes again.

“Like… like seeing you would hurt me.” Another sigh escaped you. “I kind of had to come after you...I wouldn’t have been able to take it if I didn’t.” Your voice broke, tears brimming in your eyes. As you rolled them upward, a few slipped free, and you wiped them away quickly. “The hormones,” you gestured vaguely in circles around your stomach.

Jungkook scoffed, scratching the tip of his nose.

“How can you say that when you’ve got everything you ever wanted, huh?” He leaned closer, stepping toward you this time. “You’re so fucking unfair.” His voice cracked into anger. “You’re pregnant with another guy’s baby!” The words came out louder, rawer.

You covered your face with your hands, sniffling as you turned away.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have come after you,” you whispered, stepping back. “This was a mistake.”

“Do you love him?” Jungkook demanded, no hesitation, his eyes burning into yours like he could force the truth out of you.

“I do.” The answer fell quickly, your tears spilling faster, streaking down your face without resistance.

“Do you love him the way you loved me?” Jungkook’s voice echoed again, low and devastating. He hadn’t even processed your first answer yet, because this was the only question that really mattered. "Love him more than you loved me?"

Your voice trembled, disbelief etched across your face.

“You’re really standing there asking me that?” The words came out sharp, laced with anger.

Jungkook felt it like a blade cutting straight through him. His mouth opened, he wanted to take the words back, but desperation held him hostage. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t control the storm tearing through his chest. You turned toward the door, ready to leave, but he lunged forward, his hand closing around your arm, just enough to halt you.

“Wait,” he choked out, his wide eyes glassy with tears that made him look so fucking vulnerable. His voice cracked as it left him. “I just need to know.” His grip loosened, trembling fingers slipping away as if he didn’t have the right to hold you. “Just tell me, do you love him more than you loved me? Or are you gonna stand there and say you never loved me at all?”

The last words broke apart, his voice splintering with a sob. He didn’t even know why he’d said it, he was not in control of himself anymore, why he was cornering you like this. The alcohol, the pain, the unbearable sight of you, so close and yet unreachable, had ripped the filter away from his mouth.

Your eyes widened, disbelief across your face. You blinked, several times, as though you hadn’t heard him right. Then you shook your head, hands dragging down your face, your jaw trembling with rage.

“I cannot believe you’re saying this to me.”

You bit your lip, hard, like to keep your voice from cracking, but the fury burned through every syllable.

“Do you have any idea what I gave up for you?” you snapped, the words slicing clean and sharp now, no hesitation. “I literally moved to the other side of the world, Jungkook. I left my country, my family, my friends, my job. Everything! Everything.” You emphasized the last word, your voice ringing through. “I went to a place where I didn’t even speak the language, where I had to start from nothing, just to be with you. Just to dedicate myself to us. That’s how much I loved you.” Your voice was steel now, your Korean so fluent, so precise, that it cut him deeper than anything else. “I loved you more than I loved myself.” Your eyes were already glossy, but finishing the words broke something open. Tears streamed down your cheeks, unstoppable. You were trembling, crying, unraveling, but your voice still carried, trembling with fury. “And you have the audacity to stand here and ask if I ever loved you? How dare you?”

Jungkook’s heart hammered in his chest like someone was slapping him across the face again and again. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, but the only words that stumbled out of him were low, broken.

“You left me,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You walked away.”

You let out a bitter, hollow laugh, shaking your head as you wiped your face with trembling hands.

“I didn’t leave you, Jungkook. You let me go.” Your voice steadied, gaining power with every word. “You knew how everything changed. You knew what happened when my dad got sick. You knew I had to go back, that I had to be there for him. You knew I had my own dreams, my own expectations, but I kept putting them on hold because I was always waiting, for you! And you? You were always in the studio, on tour, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. And I tried to be strong, I tried to be enough, but I was alone. You left me in that apartment, over and over again, waiting for you. And I couldn’t keep waiting forever.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, the lump in his throat like fire. None of this was new. He’d known all of it, but hearing it from your lips now, seeing you, pregnant, married, years later, was like being buried alive.

“I never would’ve asked you to give up your career, Jungkook,” you continued, your voice shaking. “I knew what it meant to you. I never would’ve made you choose. But don’t you dare act like I left first. You let me slip through your fingers long before I walked away.”

Jungkook’s vision blurred, his chest caving in. Because you were right. Because he had let you go without even realizing. Because choosing would’ve meant sacrifice, and he’d been too cowardly to face it.

Your voice cracked again as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I loved you, Jungkook. I loved you so much it broke me. I loved you more than I loved myself. And that’s exactly why I had to let go. I had to choose me.”

He wanted to scream, to deny it, but the truth crushed the air out of his lungs. His lips trembled as he whispered the only name he could.

“With Henry.”

You blinked, almost startled by the simplicity of it. Then you shook your head.

“No. With myself,” you said “Henry was just the consequence of that. The first real step forward. But before I loved him, I had to love myself again.”

You stood there, both of you locked in a stare, eyes brimming with tears, faces flushed red, not just from the cold, but from anger, from everything unsaid. Your lips pressed tightly together, trembling, your lashes clumped with tears as you tried to blink them away. Jungkook’s chest ached with regret. Regret for everything he’d said, for letting his pain twist into cruelty, for making you this angry when all he’d wanted was to hold you close.

“I’m going inside,” you announced finally, your voice hoarse but firm.

Jungkook took a step back, his throat tight as he nodded.

“Yeah,” he whispered, barely audible. “I think you should.”

You bit down on your lower lip, nodded once, blinking several times as if to steady yourself. You shifted, giving him space, your hand already on the door.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you said softly, before pulling it open and slipping inside. The door shut behind you with a heavy finality.

Jungkook stood frozen. He knew his face was pathetic, swollen, blotchy red, tear-streaked, but he didn’t care. He just wanted every piece of you left inside him to pour out with the tears. The night was brutally cold, the kind of cold that cut through bone, and all of it, the darkness, the silence, the memory of your voice saying goodbye, made the moment unbearable.

He didn’t want to be there anymore. Not at the wedding, not at the party, not standing outside a door you had just closed on him. He couldn’t face the laughter of his friends inside, couldn’t face you, couldn’t face anything anymore.

So he stayed there for what felt like forever, though he couldn’t have said how long it really was, but long enough for his tears to come and come again, long enough for the weight in his chest to press him down until he could barely breathe. He knew it wouldn’t be the last time he cried that night.

But eventually, he pulled himself upright, swiped his sleeve across his face, and forced himself to move. Instead of walking back into the warmth and music, Jungkook turned toward the parking lot, his footsteps heavy against the ground. He fumbled for his phone, opening the app to call a car, his breath misting in the cold as he made himself a silent promise.

He was going to move on.

You smiled, biting your bottom lip and looking into Chan’s eyes.

"Thank you! You fucked me so good." 

It wasn't a lie, but also, you would be unfair if you said that you thought about someone other than Jungkook while Chan was fucking you. After all, the whole point there was Jungkook. 

Ever since you received that video two days ago of Mi-Nyeo sucking Jungkook's dick, you knew you needed to get revenge. You wouldn't let him win, not at all. So, you were at a party and you chose your ally, Chan. He was perfect: hot, with a dirty look and a big dick energy. He smiled at you and you knew it was going to be easy. And, to make things better, Jungkook adored him.

Jungkook hated you, on the other hand, he hated you so much that fucking you was the best way he knew to relieve the tension. And you've hated him too for as long as you can remember, since you were ten and neighbors. 

Everything got worse in high school when you competed for a scholarship to the same college. You won, of course, but he came so close that they gave him a scholarship too. The tension only grew when you were in college, reaching an unbearable level. But one day you discovered that you guys fucked really well. And you couldn't deny that his cock was the best you'd ever had. But when the casual sex started to get more intimate, with you sleeping together, smiling at each other for no reason, you sleeping with his shirt because it smelled like him and you liked it, even though you were alone and there was jealousy on both sides, you decided to end it all. 

Jungkook was so nervous. He didn't leave it easy, the same night you finished everything, he sent you the fateful video. And today he was going to receive one too – a video of you covered in Christopher Bang's cum. 

You walked down the hallway of your dorm and you heard Jungkook's heavy footsteps, you looked at him who was already close enough to press you against the wall with his body. 

“You dirty bitch” he spat the words at you, close enough for you to smell his drunken breath. You laughed ironically rolling your eyes.

"Don't you like it?" You raised your eyebrow and challenged him. 

He pressed his hips against yours even more, taking a hand to the strands of your hair and pulling them, making you moan.

“Disgusting” Jungkook uttered through his teeth. 

"Let me go!" you shouted and he obeyed you. 

“I’ll never look you in the face again, Y/N,” Jungkook said, making you shrug your shoulders.

“I couldn’t care less,” you said with a dismissive tone, trying to sound as convincing as possible as you walked into your dorm. "Now if you'll excuse me." you murmured, closing the door slowly, trying to give him enough time to enter. You wanted him in and that was part of the plan. Jungkook took a while, but he placed his hand on his door, taking a step into your room and then slamming the door. 

You looked at him, suppressing a smile, satisfied that your plan was going exactly the way you wanted. Jungkook kisses you in desperation, hatred, anger, in an animalistic way. You reciprocate, biting his lower lip remembering the video he had sent you. You ran your hands through his hair and he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you towards him tightly, your bodies colliding and his hands running over the crop top you were wearing and taking it off of you. 

Jungkook just removes his mouth from yours to slide his lips down your neck, running his tongue along your collarbone and leaving several hickey marks on your skin until he reaches your sternum bone, where he scrapes his teeth, then grabbing your nipple with his mouth. Jungkook sucks hard, gives a light bite and runs his tongue up and down your nipple, sucking and making audible noises that make you moan loudly, while he, with a frown, looks at you with a deferred and dark look, animalistic. He was brimming with anger and you knew you were going to be ruined.

The piercing in his mouth made the experience even more enjoyable. My God, how you loved that piercing.

The pressure he applied with suction made you practically scream with so much sensitivity. You grabbed the hair on the back of his neck and scratched the back of Jungkook's neck, hard, leaving him marked too. You didn't care about it and neither did he.

"You're dirty" he growls, separating his mouth from your tit, all shiny with drool and grabbing your breasts with both hands, he squeezed them tightly, making you whimper. "I hate you, I mean it." Jungkook grunted. 

"You say that with your dick so fucking hard" you say, squeezing his groin which locks his jaw. 

"Is this a fucking joke to you?" he said between his teeth, making you squeeze him even tighter. 

"You started this fucking game, now you handle it" you said with a frown and he rolled his eyes, letting go of your tits and taking his right hand to yours and placing it inside his pants. 

You smiled, closing your fingers into a fist and holding the base of his cock, masturbating him. 

“Tell me, Jungkook” you murmured, looking into his eyes. "Did Mi-Nyeo suck your dick properly?" 

Jungkook tilted his head and moaned softly, you moved your hand faster, squeezing him tightly, you could feel him getting harder and harder between your fingers. 

"I hope you enjoyed her blowjob because I'm never putting my mouth on your dick again."

"Yes, you will" he said, unzipping his pants and pulling down his underwear, which revealed your hand at the base of his cock. Jungkook moved your hand away and brought it close to his mouth, spitting on your hand and making you hold his dick again, spreading the saliva over the entire length of his dick. "Or has Chan's dick made you lose all desire to suck dick? Are you satisfied enough?" Jungkook gave an ironic laugh. "I doubt it. A slut who was made to suck dick like you..." he practically growled the words, and made you kneel. In a crude gesture, he pulled his hand away and cupped your cheek, squeezing your skin and forcing you to pout as your head tilted.

“Open your mouth” he orders and, again, you obey. Jungkook then approaches your lips with his and releases a line of saliva into your mouth. "Wait," Jungkook says, looking you in the eyes. His gaze was penetrating, it made you shiver. "Swallow." 

You swallowed his spit without blinking, it going down your throat and you closed your eyes. Before you could reason, the head of Jungkook's cock was already between your lips. Jungkook removed your hair from your face, in a gentle touch, totally different from the other touches he gave you. 

Jungkook then put his dick in your mouth, without you even being able to prepare yourself. You coughed, feeling Jungkook's big dick inside your mouth, him forcing his hips and making you swallow him deeper and deeper. You gagging on him, your eyes watering as you tried to relax your throat to handle him, its made your pharynx burn. Jungkook's cockhead hit you deep and you were almost out of breath, suffocating on his cock. Jungkook smiled devilishly, delighting in every choke you gave his cock. 

His cheeks flushed so red as he roared with pleasure. You could barely hold eye contact, with your eyes watering and him hitting you deep. You tried to breathe through your nostrils and that sight made Jungkook even more crazy with pleasure and mercilessly thrust into your mouth. In an almost desperate act you grabbed his balls, you knew he liked it, but you also knew he was in pain and that was what you wanted. 

He grunted, not changing the way he fucked your mouth at all.

His dick throbbed nonstop in your mouth and you rolled your eyes, knowing he was going to cum down your throat at any moment.

This was not what happened, however, to your surprise.

He took his cock out of your mouth, making you finally breathe. You were a mess and he loved it. Jungkook slapped his tip between your swollen lips and smiled, pulling your hair and making you stand up. 

As soon as you were back to your normal height, he kissed you. Again, his lips slid across yours in a desperation never seen before. His tongue danced on yours in a perfect rhythm because, even with all your desperation, your lips fit together. The kiss was wet, hot. Jungkook nibbled on your lower lip and took both hands under your mini skirt and he squeezed both your ass cheeks and slapped your skin. You pulled the hair from the back of his neck and scratched Jungkook's arm and biceps, which forced you even more against him, making his wet dick touch the inner part of your thigh. 

He continued kissing you until the edge of your bed, where, in one movement, he turned you onto your back. Jungkook made you lean on, hands on the mattress, butt thrust towards him. Your ass was so high in the air that your blue lace panties were showing beneath your skirt. Jungkook lifted your skirt even higher and left your ass exposed. He delivered a few hard slaps, alternating on each side of your ass and leaving marks and welts from his own hand. You moaned loudly, you screamed, you became wetter and wetter.

Jungkook, now kneeling, pulled down your panties in one go and left them above your knee. He held each cheek of your ass with one hand, his large, scarred hands gripping your skin tightly, forcing the phalanges into you, while he brought his mouth closer to the middle of your ass, sliding his tongue along your entire length of your pussy and butt until he reached your rim, where he swirled his tongue. Jungkook left another hickey mark on your ass, as if he wanted to mark his territory; and he wanted it. 

He then stood up and placed one hand on the front of your hip, reaching for your clit, stimulating it with circular movements and up and down, while his other hand held his own cock, pumping it, fitting it at your entrance. 

“Fuck, so wet for me” he whispered, penetrating you in a single movement. You moaned loudly, throwing your torso back, movement limited by him that gave a malicious laugh and stopped you, leaving your body bent over your bed. "So tight, I don't think Chan fucked you properly." His tone was husky and held a dirtiness to it that you couldn’t explain. 

Jungkook began to move his hips against yours, forcing his balls into your entrance while you rolled around, feeling him hit you deep. Jungkook undulated his hips and moved his middle and index fingers on your clitoris. He stretched the tight walls of your pussy, now clenching around him.

"Pretty girl, you were made for my cock and no one else's" he said, moaning loudly and fucking you hard. Jungkook held your hair and rubbed his hips against your ass, getting into a continuous rhythm.

You felt the side of your face against the sheet, your lips parted and your pussy receiving his dick so perfectly that you believed no one would ever fit like that and that was why you moaned and grunted so slyly with each thrust from Jungkook. You moaned his name and he smiled every time you said it. Jungkook held your hip with one hand and looked down, seeing his dick coming in and out of your wet pussy with ease. 

He also couldn't forget the video from earlier. That generated an indescribable possession in him. No one could own you. Not like him. 

"Y/N, moan loudly like a whore." he orders. "Moan like this is the only cock that can fuck you because it is. And I swear if anyone touches you again..." he murmurs and you moan, loud and long, a melodic moan that echoes through the room. 

"Well, I thought you would liked it" you tease, making him hit you deeper and you whimper. "I thought it was okay since there was another slut sucking your dick." 

"Fuck, you should have never let anyone in that pussy other than me," Jungkook says, giving slow, deep thrusts as he speaks. 

"Then you shouldn't have stuck that dick in holes other than mine." this time, you speak through your teeth. 

"I am not-" 

"You should never..." 

"You should never have broken up with me!" he screams. His tone was vulnerable now and you looked at him over your shoulder, but once again, he stopped you from moving. 

Jungkook leaned over you, leaving his mouth close to your ear and moaning your name, with one hand intertwined with yours, pressed against the sheet and moaning slyly in your ear, while his movements became shorter. You rolled against him and whimpered softly. You felt him reaching your cervix and his fingers, which had stopped moving on your clitoris, started moving again. 

Jungkook was clearly throbbing inside you and his moans became shorter and louder and with a few more thrusts, he started to cum inside you. You felt his weight on your back as he relieved himself and cum dripped between your legs. His fingers lost a little of their agility, but they continued to stimulate your clit and you moaned louder to encourage him to continue doing so because the walls of your pussy were squeezing him nonstop and it didn't take long for you to cum too.

It took a few seconds for you to normalize your breathing and so did he. Your legs felt heavy and you couldn't move as he pulled out of you and his cum ran down your legs, dripping onto the floor. 

You stood still for a while while Jungkook put his pants back on and so you managed to get up and sit on your bed, he was already fully dressed. 

"Are you going already?" you asked, a vulnerability in your voice beyond what you would have liked. 

"Yes. I already got what I wanted." he replied, cold and bitter.